The Cycle Continues Part Two: Beauty and the Beast
by autumn6435
Summary: Eragon and Arya travel back to Alagaёsia after learning the birth of their baby might end in tragedy. Willow and Varhog—a human female and Urgal ram who have become best friends in their time on the Isle—accompany them. As they overcome the many obstacles on their path to love, their companions begin to learn of a grave threat to the peace in Alagaёsia, the Urgal King Kulkarvek.
1. Varhog

**A/N:** As I said at the end of Part One, this picks up without any intro or summary. If you have stumbled upon this story without first reading _The Cycle Continues Part One: Reunited,_ it won't make any sense. I encourage you to go look that up before reading any further.

I have made significant revisions to Part Two, reducing the number of chapters with detailed love scenes from eight to one. That particular chapter is marked with a note at the beginning, which you can use to either find the original full scene, if desired, or to alert you that you might want to skip it if you don't care to read love scenes (but remember, this story posting contains no mature adult content). I have also added a note to the end of any chapter preceding one with even a brief reference to intimacy so you will have the same option.

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 **1\. Varhog**

As it turned out, Varhog felt gratified indeed by his good fortune of having Willow ride with him and that she seemed just as excited by the arrangement. After the dragons' enthusiastic dance when they first took off, she settled comfortably against his chest, apparently enjoying the inevitable intimacy of their position. Varhog guessed that she hoped it would provide the foundation for him to finally express the way he felt about her.

Varhog didn't know what to do with his hands, so he rested them lightly on his own legs. He had no desire to embarrass Willow by presuming to put them around or on her in any way, though he knew she wouldn't be embarrassed.

She proved him right when, not long after, she grabbed each of his hands and folded his arms in front of her abdomen. She snuggled into his chest and rested her head against his shoulder. He obviously made no objection but smiled faintly, remaining that way for some time as his mind wandered back over all the time he had spent on the Isle since Black Thunder had first hatched for him and he had flown there from Ellesméra.

Being the first Urgralgra Dragon Rider in the history of Alagaёsia was an honor not lost on Varhog. He felt the heavy weight of responsibility to bear the title nobly and was willing to prove himself deserving of it in whatever way necessary. He had been a most devoted student under the supervision of Arya, Fírnen, and the Eldunarí, though language had been a huge barrier at the time.

Consequently, the first thing Varhog had dedicated himself to once Black Thunder could carry him to the island was becoming proficient in the various languages of all the races he might be expected to communicate with as a Dragon Rider. He started first with the ancient language, since it was also the language of the elves and magic. Then he had mastered the common tongue used most often by humans. He had excelled in his studies under the direction of the Eldunarí and was able to speak the ancient language and the common tongue fluently by the time Willow arrived.

Those early days had been almost pleasant, if you could call back-breaking physical, mental, and emotional work pleasant. He had been most fortunate to be the sole mentee of Firesword, Murtagh, and the Eldunarí, and since the other two Riders were still so new to their education, they had all largely learned together. Varhog's constant interaction with the two humans, the elves, and the Eldunarí had softened away in him the roughest nuances of his race, and he had come to admire and appreciate the way the humans both reasoned and behaved. He therefore sought to pattern himself after their worthy examples, knowing the Riders must be judicious, disciplined, and wise.

But everything had changed with the arrival of Knilf. The enmity and past grievances between their two races had proved insurmountable. Knilf hated Varhog passionately, and Varhog had hated the hornless mountain rat equally as much. Both had lost kin in the Battle under Farthen Dûr, but Knilf couldn't seem to accept that the Urgals had acted under coercion. Varhog's own sire had been killed in the battle—he had been a fierce Kull warrior—but Varhog had been slightly more willing, thanks to Firesword's influence, to acquit Knilf for the deeds of his race than Knilf had been to forgive the Urgralgra. Varhog realized that Knilf wasn't _personally_ responsible for the death of his father, but Knilf couldn't see it that way. No matter how Firesword had tried to reason with them—or even threatened—that they must learn to get along, they had persisted in their vengeful abhorrence.

Varhog still remembered when Firesword shared the news after scrying with Murtagh that the next Rider to join their ranks was a human girl no older than sixteen. By that time, Varhog was already twenty-five, and he was disappointed in the choice of the dragon to hatch for such a young female. It didn't fit the image in his mind of what a Dragon Rider ought to be like.

Yet when Willow arrived, a ray of sunshine fell on Varhog's gloomy world, which was darkened by the constant black feelings between him and Knilf. He remembered that his first impression of her had been warmth—her warm smile and eyes, which reminded him of vibrant earth ready for something to grow in it.

-:-:-

Though the wind wasn't as strong as it would have been had Varhog not cast the usual spell all of the Riders used when flying long distances at high speeds, which was to split the stream of whooshing air to flow around them, a strand of Willow's hair had worked its way free of her braid. It tickled Varhog's skin, bringing him back to the present for a moment. The loose hair entwined itself around one of his horns. Willow seemed completely unaware, so Varhog said nothing and enjoyed its sweet smell, remembering his and Willow's first meeting with a small smile.

She and Murtagh had just landed on the island. She was weary from the long journey—her first on dragon back—and her face was pale and haggard as if she had endured great hardship. But despite the hollow, haunted look in her eyes, they also displayed wonder and curiosity.

Firesword had welcomed her to the island, congratulated her on becoming one of the legendary Dragon Riders, and introduced her to everyone present. Varhog came last, but before Firesword was able to introduce him, Willow had spoken first. When the others began to lose interest and wander off, she had remained standing in front of him, calmly staring up and examining his face with unrestrained interest and, Varhog thought, recognition. At the time, he had been well over a foot taller than she, but she had reached up and carefully fingered one of his horns, completely unafraid and with no inhibitions or sense of doing something improper.

"Can you feel that?" Willow wondered.

"No," Varhog replied, unable to hide his disbelief at her open interest. "It's like hair. It continues to grow slowly but has no sensation."

"Amazing," she said, and Varhog had not missed that the look of deep sadness in her eyes gave way to wondering joy the moment he first spoke. She then moved her hand to his jaw. "I've never met an Urgal, though I've seen your kind before. Why are your eyes yellow and your skin gray?"

Varhog had been shocked by her gentle touch, but he hadn't been able to keep a slight grin from his face. Her openness and boldness, especially in a female, were completely unfamiliar to him. He had immediately admired it, having never met someone so totally honest and fearless.

"They simply are," he said. "That's the way we were made. Why are your eyes brown and your skin ivory?"

She understood his point and with a warm laugh—everything about her was warm—said, "I see what you mean. I don't know why. They just are."

The moment she smiled, recognition flared in _his_ mind. "It was you!" Varhog exclaimed in astonishment.

"Yes, it was," she confirmed. "I knew I had seen you before."

"In Feinster?" Feinster was the last city the Urgals had been allowed to enter during the war. Lady Nightstalker was painfully aware that her alliance with the Urgralgra was costing her new allies. In the cities captured by the Varden, those humans who hadn't sworn fealty to Galbatorix refused to take up arms against him when they learned it would mean fighting alongside their ancient enemies.

"That's right," Willow said. "After the Varden captured the city. I had heard there were Urgals fighting with the Varden, and I was so curious because all I'd ever heard about your race was negative. I went to the gate of my father's estate, hoping to catch a glimpse of an Urgal. Lucky for me, a whole group of you marched by not long after I took up watch. No one paid me any mind. No one but you. I'm sure it was you. You looked straight at me. Your horns weren't as long then, nor were you as tall."

Varhog recalled the moment perfectly. He had looked straight at her because she was staring so intently at them as they marched past that he could feel her scrutiny. As soon as he had glanced over, she had smiled brightly, gazing directly into his eyes. It was so unexpected that the moment was permanently emblazoned in his mind.

Nothing had seemed extraordinary about her. She was a small human girl with large, wide, brown eyes, just like so many of the other humans he had met. Brown eyes, brown hair, and a look of fear, whether deep or faint. Always a look of fear and hatred whenever any of them had come across the Urgals, even among the Varden. They had all looked the same to him. All except _her,_ for in her eyes there had been no fear, only curiosity. And she had smiled. It was such a beautiful, warm expression that it had never left his mind. Varhog had thought often about the small human girl who seemed curious, open, and unafraid when it came to Urgals, even huge fighting rams.

"And you smiled straight back," Varhog said in amazement. "You weren't afraid."

"No, I wasn't. I was curious. I wished I could meet an Urgal. I was sure you couldn't be as bad as everyone always said, since you were fighting with the Varden to overthrow Galbatorix. I guessed the wrongs went both ways."

"But didn't we all look the same to you, as all humans did to me?"

"No," she said. "I know all Urgals have yellow eyes, but I remember _your_ yellow eyes. Before they filled with surprise, they seemed wise and kind, which surprised _me_ , though it proved me right. You had just helped take the city and no doubt killed many of my compatriots, yet your eyes didn't seem murderous or evil, as rumors would have had me believe."

Varhog had been astounded by her insight and intelligence, though she was so young. And her complete lack of prejudice had struck him again. "Well, I remember your brown ones. The only way they were different from the dozens of other brown human eyes I had seen was the complete lack of fear. They remind me of warm earth with sun shining on it." She had such an open nature that Varhog had felt he could say anything to her without offending her.

She had thoughtfully raised her eyebrows as she contemplated the metaphor. "Hmm. I never thought about that before. Perhaps you should call me 'Eartheyes.'" Then she had smiled teasingly, something Varhog had never before seen, not even among his own race. He had been captivated and wished to see the expression again.

Varhog had immediately liked her idea, though Willow suggested it in jest. It was the way of the Urgralgra to refer to something just as it was, like with Firesword or Black Thunder, and her eyes had captured him above all else. He responded, "If you let me call you Eartheyes, I will let you call me 'Yelloweyes.' Does that seem fair?"

Willow laughed again. "I suppose so. Very well. Yelloweyes it is. It doesn't offend you?" she worried.

"No, it doesn't. It's the mildest nickname I will have received on the Isle. Knilf has come up with some fine insults for me."

"You thought it up quite quickly," she commented. "Have you been called Yelloweyes before?"

"No," Varhog answered. "You just noticed my different eye color right away. And Yelloweyes was the name of my favorite werecat during the war. He was a great, fat thing and liked to curl up in my lap at night around the campfire so I could stroke him. Being called by his name would be both an honor and an irony since the werecats are very fierce, though they are also so much smaller than we Urgralgra."

"I see. But what is your actual name?"

"I am Varhog. And you are Willow."

"Yes!" Willow said in surprise. "Oh, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Murtagh just told everyone." And then she laughed at herself.

Varhog smiled. "That's true. But I remember something else about that moment in Feinster. Right after you smiled at me, I remember hearing a man call for you. Everything about that moment is permanently imprinted in my mind. He said, 'Willow.' In _his_ voice was the fear I had come to expect from humans. Was it your father?"

"It must have been," she said with a look of deep sadness and fondness in her eyes. "He died right before I came here. But he was at peace thinking I would be taken care of by the Riders. He missed my mother and little brother, who have also passed away, and wished to join them. He was searching for me, and when he found me out by the gate, he was worried for my safety, especially since the city had just been taken. He had nothing to fear though, did he?"

"No," Varhog said. "You would have come to no harm. Is your whole family gone then?"

"Yes," Willow whispered, tears filling her eyes.

"I'm very sorry, Willow. My sire has also passed away. It was the hardest time of my life. But I haven't lost my mother and siblings too."

"Thank you, Varhog," she breathed.

"I'm glad I finally got to meet you, Willow."

"Likewise," she agreed, and she had sniffed and scrubbed the tears from her eyes. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Yelloweyes." She had smiled bravely and extended her small hand, which he had very carefully taken to gently shake. He could tell she was gripping his enormous hand with all her strength, but she had seemed like a child to him. Because she was. She had only been a child then, just barely sixteen.

They had been carrying on in such a comfortable manner that Varhog had all but forgotten about Firesword, who remained watching them after the others had departed. His face was stern and indifferent, as it always was in those days, though his eyes never were.

Varhog had assumed early on, though Firesword never spoke of it, that he deeply loved some woman somewhere and was trying not to let it affect him. Varhog couldn't understand why Firesword wouldn't get the mate of his choice, since he had more than proven his valor in battle with all of his triumphs in Alagaёsia. Now that Firesword and Arya were together and married, Varhog better understood. There had been many obstacles to overcome, their different races only one of them.

Varhog had long felt it presumptuous to think that Willow would ever have him or that a match between their races would even be a good idea. When his feelings had first begun to deepen, he was surprised he even desired it, since most Urgralgra viewed humans with hatred and disgust. But he had learned to overcome that tendency in his time on the Isle, and he now saw that being of a different race didn't make the prospect as impossible as he had once thought. But he knew a union between an _Urgal_ and a human was far less likely than one between an _elf_ and a human. Willow's confession at Lake Arya some weeks earlier—that she felt they could be more than friends and even _wanted_ to be—had stunned Varhog and taught him to hope like never before.

Varhog's mind once again drifted back to that first meeting with Willow. Firesword had seen that they seemed to be comfortable with one another so he asked, "Varhog, would you be willing to show Willow around these first few weeks? Bring her to every training session and show her the Great Hall and the living quarters? Explain how life works on the Isle? What say you?"

Varhog had immediately accepted, relieved to have an excuse to avoid Knilf. And avoid Knilf he had, at least initially. He had given Willow an extensive tour, both on foot and by dragon. He had shown her the nesting grounds, the Cave of the Eldunarí, the stronghold and city, and all of the beauties of the island. He had shown her the lakes for swimming and had warned her and Sunset to avoid the sea, where Nïdhwalar were known to lurk. The fearsome sea monsters had taken up residence there not long after the dragons. Only one dragon—a young, wild hatchling—had been lost to the beasts, which was enough to teach all the others great caution around the ocean.

Willow had viewed Firesword with such deference, the elves were so distant, and Knilf was so volatile that she had naturally gravitated toward Varhog. She seemed to have some secret mission to get him to laugh as often as possible, which was new to him. He couldn't understand why she looked as she always did when he spoke or laughed. Her eyes lit up and filled with a distant, loving expression.

Firesword's request simply threw them together all the more. In spite of their vast differences in appearance and age and how intimidating he was, she held no preconceived notions about him being an Urgal. He was just another person to her, someone she knew nothing about and wished to know better.

Willow had been curious and sincere about everything, asking question after question without a prejudice in the world. She was always open-minded and insightful, and Varhog had quickly seen that he had been mistaken to think she didn't belong with the Riders. However, her insatiable curiosity had, after some months, inevitably led her to seek out Knilf, much to Varhog's dismay. He had done his best to keep her occupied so she wouldn't think of Knilf.

Varhog perfectly remembered that day as well because two equally unlikely things had occurred. The first had taken place during a fighting lesson. Since her arrival, he had been teaching Willow hand-to-hand combat, which was the preferred fighting style of his race. His instruction had stretched over the course of many weeks and months. She had often laughed at herself during their sessions as he tackled her again and again. Varhog had never hurt her, but she never stood a chance against his massive brute force.

Willow joked that her small size and puny strength next to Varhog made it the most ridiculous thing she had ever done. But Varhog helped her see how she could view those things as strengths rather than weaknesses. With the help of the increased mental awareness she was learning under Firesword and the Eldunarí's tutelage, which helped her anticipate his movements as he made them, he taught her to use her small size to be quick and evasive. For if he ever got close enough, she had no hope of escaping his grip.

It was the beginning of the end. Willow had learned so rapidly. After months of dogged practice and gaining a wiry strength as she exercised, which was heightened by her bond with a dragon, she had mastered his lessons, her courage and determination more than compensating for any deficiencies.

That day had marked her first victory against him, and Varhog had been so shocked that he had hardly known what to think. Rare was the _man_ who could hope to match the physical prowess of a healthy Urgal ram, let alone a small and wiry human girl! And Varhog's strength more closely matched that of a Kull, magnified as it was by Black Thunder's might. Not even Grintuk had ever bested Varhog in single combat, and Grintuk was a Kull Dragon Rider, though at the time Grintuk hadn't been on the Isle.

Varhog only knew of one man who had bested an Urgal ram, and that was Firesword's cousin, Roran Stronghammer. He was renowned for his incredible strength, which was greater than most humans, and his sheer determination and creativity. The ram in that contest had been Varhog's own older brother, Yarbog, and the story was famous in their clan.

But in the same moment, Varhog had thought of his uncle Nar Garzhvog, who had killed a cave bear in the year he first got his horns by choking him to death with his bare hands. The bear had been far taller and more powerful than his uncle, and yet he had triumphed. That was all Varhog could think of when Willow defeated him as she did.

After dodging an aggressive lunge, she had instantaneously lighted on his back and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind. He couldn't reach her nor pry her arms loose, though it should have been effortless. She stacked them on top of each other, and they filled the space between his collarbone and chin, giving him no room to work his thick fingers between. She wrapped her hands all the way around and tucked them into her armpits where he couldn't reach them due to the bulk of his powerful shoulder, bicep, and forearm muscles. She also always wore thick leather gauntlets to protect her arms and hands from his rough hide as they contended, and these served to protect her skin from his clawing fingernails as he attempted to remove her. She tucked her head down as low as she could to avoid his horns as he swung his head from side to side.

And though his neck was thick, knotted with muscles, and much too strong for any human to snap, Willow used the strength of her entire body to squeeze against it by tucking her knees up under her and pushing against his back to counter the force of her stranglehold, which strengthened it at the same time. He guessed that her small, thin frame—condensed as it was in her curled up position—was precisely the reason he couldn't remove her. She fit neatly in the middle of his vast back where he had no hope of reaching her. She held on with such fierce willpower that the lack of blood flow and oxygen had swiftly weakened Varhog, forcing him to his knees. If she had held on much longer, she would have rendered him unconscious.

Willow worried she had gone too far and really hurt him. She hadn't of course, but Varhog had been speechless. He had just been bested by a small human girl! What would the other Urgralgra think? They would mock him, he knew. There would be no end to his humiliation. But it would vault _her_ to a most desirable prize in their estimation.

The Urgralgra females, though more slender than the rams, were also tall, strong, and powerful, and fighting between the two sexes was often an integral part of courtship. In the rare instances that a female defeated a ram, she was instantly considered a most worthy companion and brood-mate. Thus it had been the beginning of the end in another way. Varhog began to realize that he would no longer be able to think of Willow as only a student or friend, but a girl whose unabashed honesty, unwavering courage, and dogged determination demanded his attention and regard. He couldn't help but admire a woman with the ability to bring him to his knees as she had.

On the same day as his first defeat, she had sought out Knilf. The second unlikely incident occurred as Varhog again witnessed Willow's gift to overcome any prejudice and bridge any gap, just as she had in her friendship with him. She had been as forthright with Knilf as she had with Varhog.

"Hail, Knilf!" she cried, approaching the solitary dwarf as he practiced axe throwing in one of the training fields.

Knilf had merely scowled, since Varhog was reluctantly trailing behind.

"You are a most mysterious creature, Master Dwarf," Willow said. "I have rarely had the chance to see a dwarf, let alone meet one in person. I'm curious to know you better as a fellow Rider."

Knilf had grunted.

Willow had smiled. "Do you not speak then?" she teased.

"Of course I speak, lass," Knilf spat, and Varhog had been tempted to pound him for his disrespectful manner, a tendency he must have learned from Firesword and Murtagh, who always acted the perfect gentlemen around any female.

"Well, that's a relief!" Willow exclaimed. "I was beginning to worry that the reputation of the legendary Dragon Riders had been sorely exaggerated if one of them wouldn't be expected to have use of the common tongue." It was a pure and innocent jest not lost on Knilf. Varhog had seen the merriment of his race sometimes surface in the dwarf when he himself was not near at hand. But whenever Varhog was close by, Knilf was sour and mean. At her joke, an uninvited smile began to play around the corners of Knilf's mouth, something he sought desperately to subdue given Varhog's proximity.

"I don't speak with _him_ around," the dwarf reluctantly clarified.

"You mean Varhog?" Willow wondered. She had remained quiet and thoughtful a moment as she considered this insight.

The dwarf had again said nothing. Then Willow continued undaunted, "Well, what do you think about being the first dwarf Rider?"

"It is a great honor, lass," Knilf replied. "A responsibility I do not shoulder lightly. I strive every day to be deserving of the mantle." Varhog had involuntarily creased his brow at the response, amazed it so closely reflected his own feelings.

"Hmm," Willow replied. "That sounds familiar." And she had cast a furtive glance in Varhog's direction. "And how do you like flying?" she then pressed.

"It's magnificent," Knilf honestly said, unable to resist the pull of Willow's sincere curiosity. "I never thought I would say it as a knurla, but there is nothing to compare to the vast expanse of the open sky. I suppose that feeling is hard to deny when one is linked with a king of the wind," he finished, referring to his noble dragon, Blaze, who was the most blindingly yellow color Varhog had ever seen.

"A knurla?" Willow questioned.

"One of stone, a dwarf," Knilf explained. "It's how we dwarves refer to ourselves. My kind prefers the deep confinement of the earth, and I still like the familiarity myself, but I now feel an affinity for the wide openness above the earth that many of my race don't share."

"I see. Where are you from?"

"Tronjheim," Knilf answered. "I'm a kinsman of King Orik, Eragon's adopted half-brother. His wife is my aunt."

"How old are you?" she then asked, curious as ever.

"I am but twenty and five. A mere lad in the eyes of most dwarves."

Willow had regarded Varhog with greater insistence at that, something Knilf finally noticed.

"Did you know Varhog is also twenty-five and kin to a great Urgralgra war chief?" Willow casually ventured. Then with a little giggle she added, "And that he also has seven toes on each foot?" She had heard of the silly similarity when Firesword once mentioned it to Varhog in her presence.

"I don't know anything about him and never will care to!" Knilf vehemently declared. "He is a killer and a beast and that's all he will ever be."

"Nonsense!" Willow lightly disagreed. "Did you know that _I_ bested him in combat today? How could one be a killer and a beast when a slight girl of but sixteen can bring him to his knees?"

Knilf had attempted to hide his amusement at Varhog's defeat, and Varhog had felt slightly deflated, but his more powerful emotion was his astonishment at what Willow was expertly and almost unintentionally accomplishing. She was forcing him and Knilf to recognize and acknowledge that they weren't so very different as they were wont to believe.

But Knilf had not relented so easily. "His kind were responsible for my father's death in the Battle under Farthen Dûr!" he raged with hatred in his eyes.

Varhog's shock had only increased. Knilf had never shared that commonality.

Willow had appeared truly pensive then. With wisdom belying her years she replied, "War brings death and sorrow to all involved. Varhog also lost his father in that awful clash. And to think that he marched to his death against his will, constrained by magic, and believing false promises of glory. Would you blame Varhog for the vicious tactics of Durza and Galbatorix when he himself was also such an innocent victim, suffering as great a loss as you, if not greater?"

Knilf had been speechless. Firesword had often attempted such lines of reasoning, but never with the same effect as Willow's gentle inquiry. Her frankness demanded consideration of an equal honesty.

"The way I see it," Willow continued, "you two are as brothers. Born the same year to face the same loss of your sires in the same battle, both innocent and enraged victims of Galbatorix's cruelty, now brought together by the same calling of Dragon Rider. Why do you insist on nursing old grievances for which neither of you is personally responsible? Do you not see how it weakens you and us, the Riders? I have now had the chance to come to know you both for myself, though you not so well as Varhog, and I find you some of the best men I know, with good hearts, great courage, and deep humility. Can you both be the best Dragon Riders you are capable of becoming or be deserving of the heavy mantle with this hatred festering in your hearts? We are supposed to engender peace in the land! Lay aside your differences, I implore you! You have far more in common than not!"

She had stood beseechingly between them, her eyes shifting from one to the other. They had stared silently at the ground, her words piercing them to the core with their simple truth and gentle candor. They had shuffled their feet and otherwise appeared awkward, neither knowing how to break the silence or atone for past wrongs.

Sensing their mutual confusion yet also knowing it was a start toward reconciliation, Willow easily suggested, "Knilf, why don't you show us how to properly throw an axe? Varhog has attempted to demonstrate for me, but I suspect I will never fully grasp the art unless instructed by a true master."

Knilf had swelled with pride and eagerly delved into every minute detail of axe throwing—from choosing the proper weapon for your hand size, arm length, and height, to understanding the balance between blade and handle, and every other imaginable factor. Varhog and Willow had both listened in genuine fascination, and no matter how much taller and longer-limbed Varhog was, he never had been able to out throw the dwarf.

That had been the beginning of his and Knilf's friendship and brotherhood. Willow had accomplished the impossible, proving more essential to the Riders than any had ever first imagined. Varhog didn't find it hard to believe that either he or Knilf would eventually have abandoned the island and the Riders with hatred and rage in their hearts if not for Willow's ability to help them overcome their differences.


	2. An Unprecedented Confession

**2\. An Unprecedented Confession**

Willow shifted slightly in front of him, and Varhog left his memories in the past. She tentatively touched his mind. _May I communicate thus, Yelloweyes? I do not wish to seem discourteous, but I fear I would soon grow hoarse if I tried to shout over the buffeting of Black Thunder's wings._

Varhog responded in turn, _Yes, Eartheyes. I too wished to speak but feared the presumption of sharing your thoughts._

She laughed as warmly as she always did, and the wind brought it to his ears the same moment it left her lips. _You know I never hide anything from you anyway, my friend. What secrets could my thoughts hold?_

 _I know not,_ Varhog replied, amused. Willow was right. She always openly shared her thoughts and feelings. _He_ had been more secretive and aloof in recent weeks, and he knew it had pained her. He was going to tell her how he felt today during the first leg of their journey but not quite then. So he changed the subject to give himself time to organize his thoughts. _How do you like flying on Black Thunder? Is it what you anticipated?_

 _Indeed! It is wonderful!_ Willow's enthusiasm was tangible. _He is splendid! So vast and powerful compared to Sunset, who seems so strong to me, in her own right. But she is slender and lithe. I suppose we are more suited for one another just as you seem to be with Black Thunder. It reminds me somewhat of when we grapple on the Isle. It's always terrifying and exhilarating at the same time when I find the courage within me to leap on your back. I feel the same mix of emotions now._

 _You find me terrifying?_ Varhog wondered.

 _Of course!_ Willow insisted. _You are! You could crush me in a dozen different ways with the flick of your wrist. But I'm not afraid of you. I know you never_ would _hurt me, though you_ could _. I simply feel the same raw strength and power now that I do then._

Varhog was somewhat appeased by her explanation, gratified that she knew he never would hurt her. It was true, however. Though he shuddered to contemplate it, he _could_ kill her with his bare hands in any number of gruesome ways. He was the tallest Rider save Grintuk, but he was still the most powerful when it came to brute strength. Though not Kull as his father had been, he still stood half a foot taller even than Hanin or Blödhgarm, who were very tall for elves. Willow herself was tall for a human female, but Varhog was head and shoulders above her.

 _I'm glad you know I wouldn't hurt you, Eartheyes. You are my dearest friend_.

Varhog could somehow feel through her thoughts that Willow smiled, though he couldn't see her face. Then she said, _Thank you, Varhog. That means a lot to me. I consider you my closest friend as well. If not for that immediate friendship when I arrived on the Isle, I might have become depressed and withdrawn._

Willow spoke in her characteristic sincerity, and Varhog felt her hopeful invitation that he would elaborate on this thought. Now her tone took on a teasing air, which was also very typical of her. _And you have taught me that I have the instincts and determination to best an Urgal, no small feat for a skinny human girl. That alone has given me confidence to venture forth into the world. So long as I do not try to flee, I can dodge and duck away from such a foe until he tires and then render him unconscious. Although I don't think I'll ever try my luck against a Kull. I would never be able to reach his back._ She laughed again, and it was such an inviting sound that Varhog couldn't help but join her.

His own laugh, in contrast, was a deep-chested boom, and Willow turned her face so her ear pressed against the area of his chest where the sound was loudest before observing, _I like hearing you laugh so close to you_.

 _I like having you close enough that you can,_ Varhog replied. _Willow, you mean so much to me that I would willingly stand against an enemy as formidable as Black Thunder himself before I would let harm come to you._

Willow's thoughts were pensive and once again hopeful after his remark, though Varhog clearly sensed that she was still going to leave the matter in his hands. _I always knew you, as a friend, would not harm me, Yelloweyes, but a declaration such as that hints at more than friendship._ It was the clearest invitation she had yet given him to speak his mind.

Varhog couldn't disguise his mild chagrin, and he chuckled ruefully as he recognized that the moment had finally arrived. He was determined not to pass it up again. _I have always appreciated your openness, Eartheyes. You never judged me before getting to know me. I should have known better than to say something like that without you confronting me about it._

Willow laughed warmly and waited patiently, still not judging him, though Varhog was going farther and farther down the path she had been hoping he would follow for some weeks. He wanted to confess his feelings for her and had for years, but until recently he had always been reluctant. And yet even after he had known she was beginning to reciprocate his feelings, his hesitation was in the difficulty presented by their different races. Varhog worried that a relationship between them might endanger Willow.

His pause was longer than necessary and therefore further confirmed that he was attempting to begin the most difficult confession of his life. Varhog sensed that Willow wanted to help him and wasn't about to let him off the hook as she gently invited, _Share your feelings, Varhog. You know I still won't judge you, as has always been the case._ She turned her face up so she could look at him.

Varhog met her gaze, taking a deep breath and holding it in a moment. Then he let it out slowly. _I know, but that doesn't make it any easier. Though you have never treated me thus, I have always felt you must perceive me as monstrous and repulsive like nearly all humans, indeed all races, do. You might always regard me as a friend—though I am so different in many ways—because you are kind and accepting. But I have never thought it possible—at least until a few weeks ago—that you would ever see me as more._

Varhog paused again. He couldn't stop now. He knew Willow had already guessed all of this and was waiting for him to finally put into words the true scope of his feelings. She wouldn't tolerate guesswork but would expect complete honesty, what she herself would reciprocate.

But before he could continue, Willow shared, _Though you should know this, I will say it anyway. I have never thought you monstrous or repulsive, Varhog. Yes, at first you were strange and different from what I was used to, but so must I have been to you. Now after all these years of our comfortable friendship, you are as familiar to me as Sunset, though she and I are far less alike than you and I. You are right that up until a few weeks ago I hadn't thought of you as more than a friend. But as soon as I did, it seemed the most natural thing in the world, though you are an Urgal and I am a human. But I have wallowed in confusion as to what your true feelings are and whether you feel the same. I worried that the differences between us might be too much for you to overlook._

 _No, they're not. I have always loved how honest you are, Eartheyes. I never have to wonder if you're saying what you truly mean or trying to be manipulative._

Willow smiled knowingly. _A moment ago you said you appreciated it. Just then you said you loved it. What do you mean?_

Varhog shook his head in admiration, a faint smile tugging on his lips. Willow was demanding honesty, as he knew she would. _I know you won't be satisfied with anything less than the honest truth, Willow. I meant them both. At first I_ appreciated _your openness and how you wished to learn about me, and everything besides, with such unreserved wonder. But I have come to love it, as I have come to love everything about you._ He gazed straight into her expressive, warm brown eyes. _I love you, Willow._ Then he shook his head. _No, that's not strong enough. I_ adore _you, sweet Willow._

Willow abruptly twisted around as much as her leg restraints would allow so that she could look more squarely into his face. She smiled joyfully, her eyes shimmering with tears. _Say it out loud,_ she requested.

Varhog returned her smile. Their faces were inches apart, close enough that she would hear. "I love you, Willow," he said with more intensity than he ever had.

Willow laughed in delight, slipping her arms around his waist as well as she could in her half-turned position and resting her face against his chest. _It sounds as beautiful as I always imagined,_ she admitted. _No, even more because I never could get the full power of your voice quite right. Your beautiful, strong, soothing voice. Thank you, Varhog. I'm so glad. Glad? Overjoyed! I love you too, Varhog, and I hoped you would one day feel you could say that to me, if you even felt it at all._

Willow pulled back and stared at him. The loose strand of her hair once again fluttered across his face. _Oh, I'm sorry, Varhog! I didn't realize some of my hair had pulled free._ She smoothed the stray wisp against her head and tucked it back into her braid.

 _I didn't mind,_ Varhog assured her. _It's soft and smells sweet._ To speak in this manner—with their eyes only inches apart, communicating by thought rather than word—would have been unsettling only moments before since it seemed very intimate to Varhog. But now it seemed only right. He had done it! After over five years of wanting to, Varhog had finally told Willow he loved her, and her reaction had been more perfect than he could have ever hoped.

Willow smiled brightly at his compliment. _Thank you, Yelloweyes._ With tangible eagerness she then said, _I want to do something. I've been wanting to for some time, but it would have been painfully awkward before. You'll see why._

Varhog thought about Grintuk's warning and worried she would kiss him. As close as they were, there was a good chance he wouldn't be able to avoid it, but his worry was unfounded.

Willow began a gentle exploration of his face with her soft hands. Varhog could still sense the tone of her thoughts. Right then she was thinking that every part of his face was so familiar to her, and he saw himself the way _she_ saw him. His head was larger than a human's—in proportion to his larger, more muscular body—yet not as large as a massive Kull's. His skin was thick and rough—though hairless around his cheeks, jaw, and down his neck—and of a slightly grayish hue. His deep-set eyes were the cat-like yellow that had earned him his nickname. His forehead was broader and bony, for it was here that his least human feature originated. His horns grew slightly in front of and above his ears in an impressive, dangerous curl away from his face, around the back of his head, and back forward toward his jaw, where they had just begun to spiral back into the first loop as they continued to grow. His jaw was wide, square, and strong. His mouth was broader and his lips fuller than most humans. Though his teeth weren't visible with his mouth closed, Willow knew they were slightly yellow and sharper, like fangs, particularly the canines. His nose was long and straight. His hair was dark, thick, and fell in rough, wiry waves over his forehead—where it obscured the origin of his horns—and around his ears and neck, which was thick and powerful to bear the extra weight of his horns.

Willow brushed her fingertips over each of his features as her eyes drifted from one to the next. Varhog's tender adoration increased by the second at her undeniable acceptance as she gently examined his face with her fingers.

She had engaged in her silent exploration for so long that Varhog finally asked, _What are you thinking, Willow?_

A faint smile touched her lips. She looked straight at his eyes and with her defining forthrightness said, _I find you handsome, Varhog._

His eyes widened doubtfully, though her expression had communicated as much the entire duration of her inspection. Her smile broadened. _You don't believe me? I can see it is so, but you must know I speak truth, as I always do and as this language requires. I will elaborate in case it helps your disbelief. I didn't feel that way when I first met you, but as I already said, I never found you monstrous, only foreign. But you have so proven yourself in the past seven years as the most honest, loyal, and thoughtful friend I could ever hope to have that I now feel differently and have for some weeks. If not for your horns and the different coloring of your skin and eyes, you would so closely resemble a broad-featured human as to pass among them. But the differences don't bother me. They are simply part of you. You wouldn't be Varhog without them._

 _But my horns,_ he bitterly thought. _Even_ they _don't bother you?_

Willow's expression was tender as she raised her hand to touch them. _You say that like you wish they were gone. You know I would never expect you to be any different than you are, Varhog. You are an Urgal. They're as much a part of you as my lack thereof is a part of my humanness. If you didn't have horns, you wouldn't be the same ram you are and perhaps not my friend._ Her tone became teasing. _For then you might be aware of how handsome a human girl would find you and be arrogant and vain. I am sure I never would have wished to be friends if that were the case._ She smiled gently. _You should be proud of your horns and who you are. They are magnificent and powerful. Indeed, if I were a female Urgal, you would be bragging not apologizing. They are a matter of pride for your race, aren't they?_

 _Yes,_ he allowed with a small smile.

She smiled radiantly, and Varhog blinked. Willow laughed at him. _I'm so relieved you finally told me how you feel, Varhog. For some weeks now you have given me more and more clues, and I have done the same, but I never understood your reluctance in simply telling me. I was beginning to think I must have misunderstood and that you feeling an attraction to me was an unlikely thing._

Varhog had to interrupt. _Why would you think that, Eartheyes?_ he demanded.

Willow shrugged. _I've never had a man love me_ , she said simply. _Perhaps I had come to believe one never would. No one has ever told me they thought me beautiful or desirable, so I determined to be as kind and friendly as I could to everyone, knowing a true and loyal friend would always be welcome. And in this particular case, it might be because I know most Urgals view the appearance of humans with just as much disgust as most humans do that of Urgals._

Varhog closed his eyes to hide his anger and indignation. Then he took a deep breath and reopened his eyes to look at her, cupping her cheek in his large hand as he said, _The reason no man besides me ever loved you is due only to your unique circumstances. You came to be with the Riders just at the age most men would have begun to notice you. On the Isle there were only two humans, both already in love with another. The elves were too old and Knilf too bitter at first to see what a jewel you are. But since you accepted me so openly, I immediately had the opportunity to see how amazing you are. You were like a ray of warm sunshine in the dark, desolate place that had become the home of the Riders, tainted as it was by my hatred of Knilf and his of me and by the humans' frustrated longing. None of us knew how much we needed you or what we were missing until you were with us. The Riders might have fallen in our infancy if not for you. No other would have been capable of resolving the stubborn loathing Knilf and I insisted on embracing._

Varhog paused and took another slow breath, though he was speaking by thought and not word. He felt an urgency to impress this on her. _The others—Hanin and Grintuk and Bodin—all see you for what you are, but they also clearly know my feelings and would never think to approach you for fear of the unpleasant consequences._ His grim amusement at that carried into his mental monologue. _Tomath is so young that he sees you as a mother, and all the others have allowed their deep caring for you to translate into the brotherhood you have often mentioned._

 _As for no man thinking you beautiful. . . ._ Varhog hesitated before carefully continuing, _Willow, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known, though as you said, you were at first different from those of my own race. Everything about you is warm. Your eyes, your skin, your hair, your smile, your laugh. But more than your natural beauty, you have such a warm disposition and are always kind, honest, and considerate. You're always smiling and sweet. Therein is your beauty only enhanced. Many a ram or man has regretted taking a beautiful mate when he learned that her outward appearance did not touch her soul, which was cold or selfish or vain. You are truly unrivaled in both countenance and temperament. If you had stayed among humans, you would have been a highly sought after prize, able to have your choice from any of dozens of suitors._

Varhog finally stopped, and he knew Willow had seen his earnestness throughout the entirety of his long speech. Her eyes brightened and shone with tears at his intensity. She pressed her face against his chest and tightened her arms around him as she said, _Thank you, Varhog. Though I have tried to accustom myself to the idea that I would never hear such praise of myself from one who cared for me as more than a friend, I couldn't have prepared for what it feels like to actually experience it. I'm humbled you have such a high opinion of me._

Varhog circled his arms around her body, and they overlapped all the way around to his shoulders. She seemed so frail. He knew it was deceptive, yet it still made him feel fiercely protective. In response to her last comment he said, _It is an opinion shared by all almost as soon as they have the chance to meet you. Your modesty is yet another of your most endearing features._

Willow made no move to end their embrace, and Varhog could feel her breathing deeply, as if she was smelling him. She said, _You assert that most on the Isle knew of your feelings for me. Was I truly the only one who remained oblivious all those years up until a few weeks ago?_

Varhog chuckled. _The other Riders knew, all save Firesword and perhaps Tomath. Not because I told them but because they could see it. Firesword was always too swallowed in the pain of his own desperate and unfulfilled longing, though it never interfered with his duties on the Isle—only with his perception of the feelings of others. I believe he has come to notice it since he returned with Arya after their honeymoon._ She _immediately recognized it, almost as soon as Firesword introduced the two of you. I could see that she suspected I felt more for you than friendship, but she studiously kept her suspicions from affecting her face. You have given me great practice understanding expressions of the eyes. She has frequently regarded me with interest as she observed my admiration and longing for you. I know she wonders what will come of it. As do I._

His final assertion was open-ended, as if he expected a reply. But then Varhog realized he had never asked Willow the question that would allow her to give him the answer he sought. He felt her amusement as she continued waiting patiently, as she had the past several weeks. His gut clenched nervously at the thought of proposing right then.

Willow lifted her head, and Varhog relaxed his hold around her, keeping his hands clasped behind her back. She stared at his eyes once more as she thought, _What would such a thing—a union between an Urgal and a human—be like?_ He could tell she simply sought information since she didn't know the customs of his race well enough to reconcile them with those of her own.

Varhog replied, _I am not even sure myself. History has never recorded the union of an Urgal with a human. Why would any from our races ever wish to join, what with the hatred, fear, and misunderstanding that has always been between us? This was the reason I hesitated, Willow. Not because I wasn't attracted to you._ He briefly closed his eyes and shook his head at how ludicrous that sounded to him. _I have wanted you for so long, Willow, it's almost painful. You are so exquisitely beautiful, and I long for you in the deepest parts of my being. But as I said, I didn't feel that way at first, and any Urgal meeting you for the first time also wouldn't. I worried that allowing our relationship to progress as I so desperately desire would most likely place you in harm's way because of the biases and animosity between our races._

 _What do you mean?_ Willow wondered.

 _I already know that my people—my clan and family—will not look favorably on the idea of me taking a human as a mate. I am eligible to take a mate, but I'm also revered as the first Urgralgra Dragon Rider. The other members of my race will view the idea of our union as an abomination—the most offensive crime I could commit—in the same way that you know humans would see your choice. I fear you would be expected to prove your right to have me, which fills me with indescribable rage, since that is a warped perversion of the truth that I should and always will have to prove my worthiness of you. They will most likely expect you to fight, Willow, which is how we Urgralgra gain footing in our society and prove our worthiness to marry._

 _I see,_ she calmly said. _Well, we know I'm capable of that so it doesn't fill me with as much dread as it seems to fill you. I wouldn't kill any member of your race, Varhog, so if that was expected of me, we might as well end this right now._

 _No, those requirements are now a thing of the past for the majority of Urgralgra clans. The rules were revised to allow a subdual to count as a triumph. You can easily do that with your amazing methods._

 _Yes, so we needn't fear, but tell me more of the ways of your race concerning this matter, Varhog. I have no idea what to expect._ Willow shifted stiffly, stretching her neck from side to side.

 _Are you uncomfortable?_ Varhog wondered.

 _Beginning to be,_ she admitted.

 _Turn back around and settle against me,_ Varhog invited _. I can communicate with your mind while you are comfortable just as easily as if you were uncomfortable._

 _Fair enough,_ she agreed with a laugh, turning to face straight forward and snuggling into Varhog's arms.

In an attempt to describe some of the customs of his race surrounding a ram and female coming together, Varhog said, _The females of our race will only consider a ram eligible as a mate when he has defeated at least three foes and proven himself in battle. The decision is based not so much on love, from what I can tell, as on pride and a desire to have a ram who can protect her and their offspring._

Varhog did his best to remain objective through his next explanation. _The mating of Urgals is more instinctive than passionate. At least that has always been my perception of it. The rams do consider certain features attractive in their brood-mates, and they usually do feel affection, which undoubtedly deepens. But I admit that I am not extremely familiar with it since I have never personally experienced it except in my feelings for you. Only Yarbog had taken a mate before I left, so I also didn't hear of it from any of my siblings._

 _But you just told me that you long for me in the deepest parts of your being,_ Willow pointed out. _Is that purely instinctive?_

 _I suppose not,_ Varhog allowed. _I_ do _long for you, Willow. And it feels as if it would lead to something very passionate if allowed to follow its course. But I have never seen Urgals kiss one another, though Grintuk hinted at why that is before we left the Isle. Firesword and Arya often kiss, which leads me to believe that the connection for him, while pure and tender, is much more passionate than I ever knew it to be among the Urgralgra. But I was often alone and didn't mingle with others around my age. I could be completely mistaken, since—with my solitary tendencies—I rarely heard discussions of intimate love._

Varhog felt Willow's curiosity at his statement about Urgals kissing, but she allowed him to continue without interrupting. His final remarks were the first to cause him embarrassment, but he nevertheless persisted, _As for the actual joining of the bodies, I believe it is much the same in both races, since our builds are both upright and of the same general arrangement. All I know of this is from memories of the Eldunarí who had Riders. The roughness of an Urgralgra hide—with our bristly hair next to the softness of human skin—might be cause for alarm. Perhaps it could be overcome through magic. I know Firesword used a simple spell to remove his facial hair every morning before growing a beard._

Willow's thoughts conveyed mild amusement at Varhog's discomfiture, but she didn't tease him. _How would we act if our relationship took this turn, Varhog? As a human, my instinct would be to flirt and act coyly, though I suppose I tease enough already as it is. I would feel inclined to express affection in ways that may not be customary for Urgals, as you just implied. To hold hands and embrace and give kisses. This is the behavior I observed in other humans before I came here and now from Eragon and Arya. I suppose if my life hadn't been so burdened with sorrow and death, I too might have fancied some boy or other and been giddy and foolish. But as it was, no thought of such frivolity entered my mind._

She continued, _On the Isle, the thought of such romantic notions likewise never appeared. Murtagh and Eragon loved other women so devotedly that even I, as inexperienced as I am, could see that it would have been pointless to have feelings for them, if indeed I had ever felt the desire. My other more compatible choices were the elves, and that too would not be. I am but a babe in their eyes, and they are so distant and formal. Knilf, Hanin, Grintuk, and Bodin all seemed like brothers. Then Tomath, as young as he is, seemed in need of a mother, so he became like a strange son-brother. You have been the closest thing to a romantic interest I have had on the Isle—not quite a brother like the other Riders and the dearest friend I have._

 _You would categorize_ me _as a romantic interest?_ Varhog incredulously thought. _I am far from romantic. I don't even know how to act in such a way. And until a few weeks ago you never seemed interested in me beyond your innocent curiosity and friendship._

Willow turned her face so she could smile over her shoulder at him, one eyebrow arched meaningfully. Her smile came so easily to her, and Varhog felt a sudden desire to touch her lips to see if it would help him understand how the joyful expression graced them so much more often than anyone else he had known. He knew she wouldn't mind, so he raised one hand and gently placed a single rough finger over her smile before dropping it.

Willow grinned more widely as his finger brushed her lips and continued her previous train of thought, _But as I said, once I began to think of you in that way, it seemed the most natural thing in the world._ Before _then you were the_ closest _thing to a romantic interest, if I'd had to identify one. And you may not see it this way, but your simple, honest expressions—like that just now, or telling me you would protect me and have come to love everything about me, and especially your passionate soliloquy about my virtues—all seem romantic to me and would to any other human girl._

 _You're right,_ Varhog said in surprise _. I never would have thought those things would mean anything more to you than simple expressions of honesty._

Willow then asked, _Why_ did _you touch my lips just now?_

 _I was curious,_ Varhog answered. _You smile so often and so easily. You always seem full of joy and happiness. But so few others I've ever met are like that. Their faces seem to betray their constant dissatisfaction and anger at life in general, whether they would admit to feeling that way or not. I wondered what your lips felt like and thought if I had some knowledge of it, I might understand why you appear to be so different._

 _And what is your conclusion?_ she mischievously asked.

 _They're soft and warm like every part of you that I love—your eyes, your hair, and your laugh,_ Varhog honestly said, suddenly feeling self-conscious that Willow might also find this notion romantic. He shook his head in confusion as his desire to be honest came into conflict with the idea that she found him romantic.

Apparently she did think his words sweet, for she twisted enough to slip her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest in a comfortable embrace. He felt humor coloring her thoughts. _That was romantic, Varhog. More so because you meant only to be honest. I love you, Yelloweyes._

 _Now_ you _say it out loud,_ he requested.

Willow lifted her head. "I love you, Varhog," she earnestly declared.

Varhog closed his eyes, lowering his face until his forehead rested against hers. "It _does_ sound beautiful," he said in a voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, Willow. It is indescribable to hear you say that."

They remained in the tender position for a long while. After a time however, she released her hold on his waist and gave him an apologetic smile. _Uncomfortable again,_ she explained, turning in the saddle to face forward. _I'm sorry, Varhog. I truly enjoy peacefully sitting in your arms, but my back is aching after such a long time twisted around with my legs still strapped into the saddle. But keep your arms around me, won't you please? They're warm._

 _If I never stopped touching you for the rest of my life, it still wouldn't be enough,_ Varhog told her, placing his hands around her waist and using his thumbs to massage the small of her back. _Any better?_

 _Mm-hmm. Your hands fit all the way around my waist._

 _Because you're slender_. He wrapped his arms around her to offer their warmth, gently closing his hands around her shoulders. His arms were so thick and muscular that they almost completely shielded the front of her torso. He also rested his chin on the top of her head, finding it more comfortable than sitting rigidly upright.

They rode in amiable silence for a time, but Varhog knew Willow well enough to guess that she was still thinking about their long conversation. And Varhog wagered she was wondering if he would ask her to be his mate right then. He thought back to a few moments before when he had felt her patient amusement at his open-ended statement, and the same nervous feeling assailed him. Was she really ready for him to ask that? Varhog wasn't sure, and he didn't know how to find out without simply asking her.

 _Varhog,_ Willow then said, interrupting his uneasy thoughts.

 _Yes, Willow?_

 _You still haven't asked me the most significant question of this conversation. I can't answer a question I haven't been asked. At least, I won't. But I'm ready._

Varhog felt her humor in her sweet words, and he couldn't help but smile. Apparently he hadn't needed to ask. Willow had simply _told_ him she was ready. _Are you really?_ he verified

 _Of course!_ she exclaimed. _I'm sure I want to pursue this. I know how happy we'll be. . . ._

 _But? You seem reluctant._

 _Only because I am so unfamiliar with what to expect. We are the first human and Urgal to ever desire such a thing, let alone dare go through with it. I am sure you agree that it seems intimidating._

 _It does. But_ _I wouldn't want you to pursue it for my happiness alone. It would bring me greater happiness than anything else I could imagine, of that I am sure. But you could have any man you wish, Willow. More humans will join the Riders. More elves. We have seen that such an interracial union can be fruitful in Firesword's union with Arya. But of an Urgal and a human, I couldn't say._ His thoughts were filled with sadness as he selflessly thought of Willow being with another.

 _But why would I want just any man, should I really so easily have him?_ Willow demanded. _I love_ you, _Varhog. I can't see myself ever finding a better friend than you, and I value the foundation of trust and respect we have established over the last seven years almost more than anything. I am too practical and honest to wish some man to shower me with flowery praise, always attempting to be romantic and gallant. I definitely prefer your honest affection, which seems even more thoughtful and romantic given that you have no intention of it being so. I_ do _want to be more than friends. Of that I am certain. My hesitation is in not knowing_ how _we would do that or in how things would change. Do Urgals marry? If so, would we do so immediately?_

 _You would be my mate immediately, Eartheyes?_ Varhog asked, hardly daring to believe.

 _As I implied a moment ago, Yelloweyes,_ she patiently reminded, y _ou need only ask. You have already proven your loyalty, affection, and desire to protect me. All of those things bespeak your love more than flowery words. What I wonder is, what if I could never give you children? Would that trouble you? We don't know if such a thing is possible._

 _Already you think ahead to that?_ His disbelief was growing exponentially by the moment.

 _Forgive my presumption. Is that not the way with Urgals? I only have human customs to base my knowledge on. Among my race we court and marry and then, as an expression of love, the physical union happens soon thereafter and as often as is mutually desired, in addition to when the couple wishes to produce a child. Although some couples forgo the ceremony and satisfy their passion whenever they wish, which often leads to heartache and unhappiness and is considered shameful. Things must be different with your race. Do you engage in any type of courtship? Is there any type of tradition or ceremony akin to marriage? Do you mate only to reproduce? You must enlighten me._

 _No. I mean yes. Yes and no. I will explain,_ Varhog fumbled, not expecting her complete honesty and lack of shame to carry into this topic. _There are certain traditions of courtship. A female will consider a ram eligible as a mate only when he has proven himself worthy. When he has done so, he can ask a female if she would consider him as a mate, and she can accept or not. They will likely already be friends or at least have a casual acquaintance. If she accepts, a brief period of courtship follows, similar to what you would call an engagement between humans. This is a time to learn more of each other and further decide if the union is mutually desirable and the pair compatible. Often the couple will fight. The ram wants to see if his potential brood-mate is strong and brave, qualities we consider important in one who will bear and raise our children. It is rare, but if the female ever triumphs, the ram is most proud of his choice in a woman and is often the envy of the other rams._ He paused here as he perceived her amusement in his thoughts.

 _So in a manner of speaking, we have long been courting!_ Willow surmised with delight. _And I, having already bested you on numerous occasions, have proven a most worthy potential brood-mate._

Though she was only teasing, Varhog seriously responded, _It's true, Eartheyes. And Grintuk does envy me you. The first time you beat me, I knew I would never see you in the same way again. Though I would be the laughing-stock of Urgralgra rams everywhere for being defeated by a human female, one does not resent the woman who bests him but unavoidably admires her. They would soon feel the same when you beat them too, as I'm sure you could, save perhaps the Kull._

Willow swelled with pride at his praise but modestly demurred, _I'm sorry to interrupt. Won't you continue?_

Varhog went on, _After a period of time, if the couple decides to proceed with their union, there is a simple ceremony performed by the Herndall of the tribe, which involves prayers and chanting and rituals. The couple expresses their mutual commitment and affection and that is all. The ceremony is often followed by a great celebration with feasting and contests of strength and bravery._

 _The couple will then consummate their union, particularly if they do feel great affection and attraction for one another. Some of our women are considered great beauties by the rams. But as I said, at least as far as I understand it, it is not as passionate for most Urgralgra as for humans. There is a strong instinct to reproduce, and they will also join to satisfy that urge and carry on their family line. Having many children brings honor to a couple._

Varhog then explained an Urgralgra custom engaged in by mated couples. _In the winter months, the couple will together weave a hearth rug, which takes many years to complete. During this time, they come to know whether they have chosen their mate well. These are but a few of the traditions of the Urgralgra. Since you are not of my race, were we to join, we wouldn't need to observe them, particularly since we wouldn't be living among them but on the Isle with the Riders._

Willow seemed satisfied by his explanation, but she again persisted in asking, _Would you be disappointed if I wasn't able to bear you children? You seemed shocked before when I asked so bluntly._

 _I only meant. . . . That is to say, I don't know what my feelings would be if we didn't have children. Right now it seems like it wouldn't matter, but perhaps in time it would. When I responded as I did, I only meant to ask whether the thought of joining with me strikes you as repulsive. Does it? I always imagined it would._

She laughed, not at all affronted, and he could sense her exasperation with him. _Haven't we been through this, Varhog? I do_ not _find you repulsive. The thought of joining with you as a man and his wife would is also not repulsive to me. I meant it when I said that I find you handsome, horns and all. And your body is even more like a human's than your head. You are powerful and tall and impossibly muscular, features a female Urgal no doubt finds attractive. We female humans are no different. I have had plenty of time to consider it these past few weeks, and Sunset and I have also discussed it extensively. I can honestly say that I am attracted to you in that way. Is that good enough for you?_

Varhog could tell she was sincere. Before he had time to reply, Willow added, _But it seemed clear from that day in your bedroom that your bristles truly are a force to be reckoned with, so I suppose we would need to take measures to account for that. And considering that you_ could _crush me with the careless squeeze of an arm, I suppose you will just have to be careful._

 _Aye. I will never hurt you, Willow,_ Varhog promised yet again.

 _I believe it. But I must ascertain that you are worthy to seek me as a mate._ She was still toying with him. _Have you bested three opponents in combat?_

Varhog released a deep sound of amusement. _I defeated more than a dozen rams in single combat before joining the Riders. You have also witnessed me subdue Firesword, Murtagh, and all of the other Riders in hand-to-hand fighting. You alone, Eartheyes, remain my most unruly opponent, and so it is that I seek you as my mate._

 _So you can subdue me?_ Willow impishly asked. _You may find yourself sorely dissatisfied if that's the case._

 _No, not to subdue you,_ Varhog denied, _but so I will always remember the power of a woman and have the strongest one by my side to protect me._

Willow giggled, and his rumbling laugh rippled out of his chest. She asked, _So was that it then? The question? It didn't sound quite like it._

Varhog shifted his posture slightly to adapt to the sudden change in mood from teasing to serious. Willow's words made it perfectly clear what her feelings were, and Varhog saw that he needed to ask her directly to be his mate. He quelled the fluttering nervousness in his gut. Willow had assured him that she was ready for him to ask, and everything in her manner indicated that she would accept him.

Varhog still wasn't sure how to phrase his request to be meaningful to both her as a human and him as an Urgal, so he decided to go with both. Knowing that waiting any longer wouldn't help, he bowed his head down over her shoulder, simultaneously turning his face toward her ear so his horn wouldn't graze her head. With his mouth right next to her ear he whispered aloud, "Will you marry me, Willow? Will you be my mate?"

Hearing his deep voice right in her ear after the long silence of mental communication must have startled Willow, for she turned her face sharply toward him and their lips accidentally brushed together. She jerked back as a jolt of electricity burned through their lips. Varhog's stomach tightened with a deep shiver of longing. As Willow absently rubbed her lips, Varhog's head followed after her, as if drawn by a magnet. She looked at his eyes—her own were wide with surprise—and he recognized the same emotion he had felt, one he had never before seen in her.

"Did you _feel_ that?" Willow asked. They were still close enough for him to hear.

"If by 'that' you mean a deep hunger for you, then yes I did," Varhog replied.

"Is that normal? I wanted to ask earlier whether Urgals kiss to express affection. Do they?"

"No, not that I have ever seen. At least not in public. And I think I know why. Grintuk warned me before we left the Isle that a simple kiss between two Urgals who love each other as mates would immediately lead to the full expression of physical love. It actually helped explain a lot of things. I never even saw my sire and dam exchange such a gesture, and I have no doubt they cared for one another deeply." Varhog moved his head another fraction of an inch in her direction. The longing he felt intensified. "So it's probably best if we don't kiss. Yet."

Willow smiled faintly, placing her fingers over his lips and pushing softly against them. "I think that would be wise, Varhog," she agreed, and he was conscious of the energy in his lips as it seemed to vibrate through her fingers. "If an accidental touch could elicit such a reaction, it's not at all difficult to imagine that an intentional one would bring far more. I am willing to wait for the moment of our most private expression of love. Are you?"

Varhog only nodded, moving his head back at her light touch, respectful as always. In her words had been an even more unambiguous assertion of her acceptance, but she still hadn't voiced her confirmation.

As if sensing his thoughts, which she truly might have by the way she studied his eyes, Willow solemnly replied, "And to answer your question before all of that happened, yes, I will marry you. I will be your mate." She smiled radiantly, moving her hand to his jaw and holding it there a moment.

Varhog managed to quietly say, "Thank you, Willow. I never dared hope it would be." He moved one hand from her shoulder to mirror her caress, careful to control the strength of his hand, and returned her joyful smile in like manner.

Willow slipped her arms around him and switched back to mental conversation. _Aching back or not, I'm too happy not to hug you right now, Varhog. I feel like I'm about to burst! Wait until the others find out!_

Black Thunder touched Varhog's mind. _Well done, my son. That went more smoothly than you ever dreamed possible. Did I not anticipate that you had nothing to fear? Willow is extraordinary, and she is also intelligent. She would be a fool to turn down a ram such as you. I know you better than anyone, even your mother, and you know I would not say that lightly. Your victory brings you great satisfaction. She will be a worthy mate._

Varhog gratefully accepted. Then his dragon continued, _Fírnen and his Riders would seek momentary rest now that we have reached the mainland. We begin our descent even now._

Varhog realized that he had been so absorbed by his musings and conversation with Willow that the whole first leg of their journey—from the Isle to the mainland—had passed without him being aware. They were flying above the great falls that marked the end of the Edda River, and the dragons began a lazy downward spiral.

Black Thunder once again spoke. _Murtagh and Thorn have been most captivated observing you and Willow. They were so curious that I shared with Thorn only what just now passed and that you intend to join with this woman. Forgive me if I acted out of turn. They share your joy._

Varhog conveyed the message to Willow, and they both turned to look at Murtagh some distance away on Thorn. He looked slightly abashed, but they bore him no ill will. Willow smiled and waved, while Varhog only smiled, sympathetically noticing Murtagh's look of envy. Murtagh was the last of the lovesick Riders not to be with the woman he desired.

 _I wondered how we would break the news,_ Willow confessed. _Now at least two know. We should announce our intentions when we land. It might alter the course of our journey. If it's possible, I would like to travel directly to your clan in the Spine so we can win their blessing and join at once, if you don't object. That will give us some weeks yet, but for the rest of our travels, I see no reason not to be man and wife, or ram and mate, or whatever we shall be._ Her tone was light and happy.

 _If that is what you want, I do not object,_ Varhog said, finding it hard to believe how drastically things had changed in only just under an hour.

-:-:-:-

* * *

 **A/N:** I thought this might be an appropriate place to leave another A/N. I've actually only ever had one reader openly question a romantic relationship between an Urgal and a human, but that very improbability is what made Willow and Varhog so interesting to me. I couldn't believe it when I first realized that Varhog loved Willow! I was shocked because of the many references in Inheritance Cycle to the Urgralgra as monstrous and grotesque, as well as due to the idea that they viewed humans in the same way. Is it impossible for you to imagine a human finding one handsome and desirable, or an Urgal thinking that a human is beautiful? If so, I encourage you to look up Chapter 5 of my new story, _Next Generation._ In that chapter, Eragon and Murtagh have a discussion wherein I attempt to explain my portrayal of the Urgal race. And I follow it up with an A/N at the end of the chapter to further detail my views. Just FYI. ~Autumn :)


	3. Envy

**3\. Envy**

Murtagh and Thorn flew next to Black Thunder and his passengers. Murtagh stretched himself against Thorn's neck, content to relax as they flew toward Alagaёsia since he and Thorn had made this journey more often than any of those with whom they now traveled. With his head facing toward them, Murtagh found it difficult not to observe Varhog and Willow for the entirety of the flight, something that was most engaging and satisfying.

Murtagh knew they must have communicated mentally for the majority of the flight. Their mouths moved only occasionally. And that would make sense, for the loud roar from the wind and wings when flying on a dragon's back made spoken conversation nigh impossible.

Varhog appeared distant and thoughtful for a long while. He sat stiffly upright at first with his hands on his thighs. Willow settled comfortably against his chest but before long, she took his hands and crossed them around her middle, nestling more deeply into Varhog. Murtagh chuckled to himself at his old friend's reaction, easily able to imagine how Varhog might feel about that.

Murtagh had been aware longer than anyone of Varhog's feelings for Willow, and he could guess how impossible a relationship with a human must seem to the Urgal. He had often wondered what, if anything, would come of Varhog's affection, especially as Willow had appeared to start returning it in the past several weeks. Murtagh felt something of a similar unsolvable frustration in his relationship with Nasuada.

Murtagh's mind turned to thoughts of Nasuada. He remembered first meeting her in Tronjheim after being taken prisoner by the Varden simply for being Morzan's son.

The first time Nasuada had visited his cell still felt as if it had happened yesterday. He was first struck by her beauty. What else would a nineteen-year-old male think of first? But next had been her fearlessness in visiting an alleged villain. And finally, her nobility and confidence had impressed him. Murtagh had spent a great deal of his childhood and adolescence around court nobles, but no one had ever seemed more naturally dignified than Nasuada, and that at only seventeen!

Murtagh wasn't sure how his feelings for Nasuada evolved as they did over the next year. Murtagh heard of Nasuada during the months he trained under Galbatorix's merciless tutelage. How she singlehandedly led the Varden from the dwarven capitol to Surda. How she marshalled her forces for war, though they were so poor. Murtagh only later learned of her ingenious idea to magically manufacture lace as a means of procuring funds for the Varden.

These little details had increased his admiration for her as a fearless, resourceful, decisive leader. Murtagh heard about Galbatorix's first attempt on her life only after it had happened, and he had felt an inexplicable relief that it had failed. But at that point, he had characteristically cared mainly about himself and Thorn surviving whatever Galbatorix had in store for them. Murtagh had never been one to worry enough about someone else to put himself out for them.

By the time the Varden had successfully taken Dras-Leona, Galbatorix had really had enough of Nasuada's determined opposition. The king had once again ordered an assassination, and Murtagh had then stepped in and somehow convinced Galbatorix to take her alive. Murtagh hadn't been able to stand the thought of Nasuada being killed. She was so young and full of potential. Why end her life when she might be such a powerful ally? Murtagh had grown fond of the idea of having friends like Nasuada and Eragon to keep him company during their enforced servitude to Galbatorix.

Murtagh knew his feelings for Nasuada deepened into love during her imprisonment in the Hall of the Soothsayer. For one thing, Galbatorix had forced him to be the instrument of her torture. Murtagh still shuddered to think about her screams as he repeatedly burned her with a white hot branding iron. And yet she had never given in and pledged allegiance to the king. She was so brave, so defiant, so dedicated to her cause. Murtagh knew he would never meet another woman like Nasuada, and his admiration for her had deepened, as had his loathing for Galbatorix and himself, since he had caved so quickly to Galbatorix's demands once the king started torturing Thorn.

Murtagh had begun to visit her secretly. The king somehow never became aware of Murtagh's interference in his plotting, probably because he was so preoccupied with how close the Varden were to Urû'baen by then. But Murtagh had been desperate to somehow atone for his wrongs toward Nasuada. He used magic to remove the pain of her wounds and alerted her when Galbatorix was filling her mind with an illusion designed to trick her into swearing fealty to him. And he visited her as often as he could.

Those nights of quiet conversation were the end of Murtagh's days as a ruthless, self-interested lone wolf. Part of his very being changed when he began to care for another person's life more than his own, when he realized he would willingly sacrifice his life for Nasuada, and it was this integral shift in his character that had enabled him to defy Galbatorix at the last minute—right when it mattered most. Never before then had Murtagh understood why or how anyone could feel that kind of love. He had always considered Eragon a fool for risking his neck time and again to save other people.

At Nasuada's urging, Murtagh had devised a plan to help her escape, which obviously had been rendered obsolete when, the day before Murtagh would have carried it out, Eragon's completely unexpected triumph over Galbatorix altered history forever. Murtagh, and now Nasuada, had their freedom, but his reputation could not be so easily defeated. Although Murtagh was Galbatorix's pawn during the war against his will, that didn't change the fact that the free peoples of Alagaёsia feared and hated Murtagh and Thorn.

Despite his hope that the friendship he had begun to develop with Nasuada during her captivity might evolve into something more, Murtagh had known he must leave for a time, and so he had. During the relatively few visits Murtagh had made to Alagaёsia in the time since Eragon had left, Murtagh and Nasuada had had opportunity to discuss the events of so many year prior. Nasuada insisted she had forgiven him.

She had even once—more recently—shared with Murtagh one of the illusions Galbatorix had created in her mind when he was attempting to force her into his service. She and Murtagh had been married with four children and living on a grand estate in the country. She suffered from amnesia and wasn't able to recall any of the details of their life together. In the illusion, her last memory had been of her imprisonment in the Hall of the Soothsayer in Urû'baen. After sharing this with Murtagh, Nasuada had told him that the end of that illusion had been the most painful of all at the loss of what she thought would never be. Murtagh felt that the reason she chose to relate this piece of information was to make him aware of her feelings for him. But if she _would_ have him, what would become of them? She was mortal, but he was an immortal Dragon Rider.

Murtagh sighed, and his thoughts returned to the present for a time. He refocused his attention on Willow and Varhog flying next to him a fair distance away.

Murtagh sensed that something momentous was about to happen, so he muttered a quick spell that would sharpen his eyesight. _Fly a little ahead of them,_ he requested of Thorn, who gladly obliged. Thorn was viewing the exchange through Murtagh's eyes, and Murtagh felt that his dragon was just as curious as he was. Several more silent minutes passed, during which Willow smiled occasionally. Then after Varhog returned her smile, though more faintly, and shook his head in what appeared to be admiration, Willow abruptly twisted around as much as the leg restraints on the saddle allowed so she could look straight into Varhog's face.

Her smile then was as radiant as Murtagh had ever seen it, and he noticed tears shimmering in her eyes. Varhog smiled back at her and opened his mouth. Murtagh read the words as clearly as if he had been only inches from Varhog's face, as Willow was. "I love you, Willow," Varhog said.

Murtagh laughed and wasn't at all surprised that tears sprang to _his_ eyes. Varhog had been wanting to say those words to Willow for at least five years, and finally he had. And Murtagh and Willow were probably closer than any of the other Riders in the brotherly and sisterly regard they had for one another. They both had such an easy, honest wit and had always gotten along famously right from the moment Sunset had first hatched for her. Murtagh was overjoyed for the sister he held so dear, as well as for Varhog. Willow's reaction to Varhog's words was just as Murtagh would have expected. She laughed, threw her arms around him, and pressed her face into his chest.

Murtagh shook his head and wiped his eyes. He was suddenly so happy that he didn't know what to do with himself. _That's encouraging,_ he said to Thorn. _First Eragon and now Varhog. We have been a miserable trio on the Isle for all these years, longing for the women we love. In a way though, I think it has been hardest for Varhog. Not only was Willow always there, which forced him to hide his regard, but their situation is easily the most difficult of any. In Eragon's case, he meant never to return to Alagaёsia, which necessarily put the control out of his hands. In mine, I have stubbornly insisted that being with Nasuada would only end in heartache so why begin? But with Varhog being an Urgal and Willow a human, I think they have the most challenging obstacles to overcome._

 _So it would seem,_ Thorn agreed. _Does this inspire you then?_

 _Indeed. If Varhog can find the courage as an Urgal to admit he loves a human, I had better be able to follow suit and steel my nerve enough to present my desires before Nasuada._

Murtagh looked back over at Willow and Varhog, watching with a strange combination of approving envy as Willow gently examined every feature of Varhog's visage with her fingers and eyes.

 _That's so beautiful,_ Murtagh murmured to his dragon. _She really loves him, and she has never let the fact that he is an Urgal prevent her from seeing him as a person—not a monster—and someone she could have as a friend, which is more than any other human could say. We are privileged to be witnessing this singular exchange, my old friend. I'm sure it's the first time in history that an Urgal confessed his love for a human, and the human returned his love in like manner._

 _What do you suppose she is thinking?_ Thorn wondered.

 _From her expression, I would guess she finds Varhog handsome. And it's no secret that he sees her as the stunningly beautiful woman she is. Which would be another first. No other human or Urgal has taken the time to see past their differences enough to recognize the beauty in the other. And though it has been a long, long while since I have seen Varhog in a negative light, there was once a time when I did. He has more than proven himself as a friend, Rider, scholar, fighter, and with respect to Willow, as a selfless, loyal, caring, and patient companion. I can honestly say that he is one of the greatest men of my acquaintance and I am honored to call him brother. It's not hard for me to imagine that Willow is attracted to him and that she loves him. She knows him better than I and no doubt appreciates all of his strengths even more._

After her examination, Willow and Varhog stared at each other for a long while. Without being able to perceive any evidence that they were conversing, though he knew they must be, Murtagh found himself thinking it seemed very intimate they would just gaze into one another's eyes for so long. When it looked as if Willow was uncomfortable from being twisted around so long, she turned back forward and Varhog clasped her to his chest. Murtagh knew his eavesdropping wasn't very polite, but he couldn't draw his gaze away and wished he could hear the thoughts that were passing between them.

Thorn offered, _I could communicate with Black Thunder to see if he has any information to share._

Murtagh grinned. _That would be sneaky. I sense they wouldn't appreciate it. Thank you for the offer, but I suppose I must consign myself to observing from afar, as unbecoming as it is._

After a few moments passed, Willow—who had again turned enough to look back at Varhog—earnestly spoke aloud the words Varhog had earlier, "I love you, Varhog."

Murtagh's eyes again filled with tears at the deep sincerity on her face and also at Varhog's reaction. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Willow's. Varhog said something, but Murtagh couldn't make it out with the way his face was angled down and obscured. But the look on his face before he lowered it was clear enough. He was overwhelmed.

Murtagh's thoughts strayed back to Nasuada as Varhog encircled Willow in his huge arms. Willow was a tall, strong woman, even more so than Nasuada, but she seemed so dainty next to Varhog. He could wrap his hands completely around her wiry, muscular upper arms, and he did so then. He also rested his chin on her head. Thinking of Nasuada made Murtagh wish he could enfold her in a similar embrace. He felt another pang of envy, this time punctuated by deep longing.

 _We are going to her now,_ Thorn consoled.

 _But what if she won't have me? What if she will!_ Murtagh had been over this so many times that it seemed pointless. He had wanted to be with Nasuada for so long. But he had stayed away for years, only visiting briefly when he delivered dragon eggs to Alagaёsia, to allow time to heal old wounds for both of them and to give her time to establish her kingdom. And though Murtagh now felt certain that Nasuada desired a relationship with him as much as he did, he didn't know how to proceed when she would one day inevitably die.

Murtagh shook his head in frustration and momentarily abandoned his eavesdropping, though it was still on his mind. The theme struck him again as it had earlier when he thought of himself and Nasuada, Eragon and Arya, and Varhog and Willow. It seemed like every relationship involving a Rider was of necessity complicated by some inexplicable difficulty or some impossible obstacle to overcome. On the one hand, those involved might be of different races and therefore unsure of future possibilities, such as if they would be able to have children and, if so, whether those children would be mortal or immortal. The other scenario—which was the predicament he and Nasuada were in—was that one of the two might _not_ be a Rider, and they were therefore painfully aware of future certainties, such as the death of the mortal person.

 _If only there were a way to ensure that any Rider who wanted to be involved in a loving relationship wouldn't fear any future possibility, known or unknown,_ Murtagh griped to Thorn.

 _Yes, that would simplify things,_ Thorn agreed. _Though I cannot think of any way to guarantee it. It seems that some great effort of magic would be needed. The combined strength of the dragons might be sufficient to accomplish it, but that cannot be called upon at will._

Murtagh felt a familiar hopelessness. He could think of no way to alter the natural course of things. To take his mind off his despair, he returned his gaze to Varhog and Willow and was glad he looked back when he did. They were both facing forward, Willow wrapped protectively in Varhog's arms, when Varhog bowed his head next to Willow's shoulder and turned his face toward her ear. He spoke something aloud—Murtagh saw his mouth move, but once again couldn't see what Varhog said. It so startled Willow that she abruptly turned toward Varhog and their lips brushed by accident. Murtagh saw Willow jerk back in surprise, rubbing her lips as if she had been shocked, and Varhog moved his head after her. They exchanged some words, each in turn, and Varhog's head moved closer to her face again. At this, she reached up and placed her fingers over his lips, her eyes cautious. She said something, and Varhog moved back with acceptance in his face. Murtagh didn't miss the deep, instinctive longing in his eyes. It was an emotion he was well acquainted with.

Willow spoke one last time, and Murtagh recognized the words, "Yes, I will marry you. I will be your mate," among them. A series of emotions crossed Varhog's face as he briefly spoke to thank her. Willow smiled radiantly, and Varhog returned it. She slipped her arms around him and hugged him.

 _They're getting married,_ Murtagh remarked in disbelieving envy. _A human and an Urgal getting married. There's no excuse for me now, old friend._

 _No, there is not, Murtagh,_ Thorn agreed _. Black Thunder felt our obvious attention and confirmed what you learned. They mean to join as husband and wife. He also told them we have been eavesdropping._

Murtagh felt slightly guilty as Varhog and Willow turned to look at him, though there was no malice in their faces, only happiness. Willow smiled brightly and raised a hand to wave. Varhog only smiled with his chin resting on her head. Murtagh waved back. He was happy for them, but as he faced forward, his envy at their happiness grew ever stronger.

-:-:-:-


	4. Decisions

**4\. Decisions**

Once all of the dragons had landed not far from the edge of the earth where the falls crashed into the sea below, every Rider and passenger dismounted. Some did so stiffly, as in the case of Angela and Solembum. Most performed the oft-repeated motions with graceful, habitual ease.

Arya noticed how Varhog took Willow's hand and helped her down. She kept ahold of his hand once they were on the ground and pressed herself into his arm. A joyful smile covered her face, and Varhog also looked happier than Arya ever remembered seeing him. She didn't have much time to consider it before Murtagh bounded across the clearing and swept Willow into his arms. His embrace was so exuberant that he lifted her off the ground, and Willow laughed in delight.

"Congratulations!" Murtagh cried. "I'm sorry I spied on you the whole way, but I couldn't resist! Though there really wasn't much to see aside from your many smiles and laughs, the few words you did speak aloud made it so worth it. So, so worth it! I'm so happy for you, sister!" He laughed along as hers continued. Murtagh glanced over at Varhog, who for once didn't look envious. "You did it!" Murtagh exclaimed. "How does it feel?"

"Amazing," Varhog replied with a silly grin on his face. "Unbelievable. I should have anticipated Willow's reaction, but I still wasn't prepared for how perfect it was."

"Of course it was! This is Willow we're talking about! Congratulations, brother!" Murtagh finally released Willow but didn't move far. He simply stepped in front of Varhog and likewise hugged the huge Urgal around the waist, though he didn't attempt to lift _him_ off the ground. Varhog chuckled, and Murtagh moved back far sooner than he had with Willow.

"You two," Murtagh said, approvingly shaking his head. "History makers, aren't you? Look at you laughing defiantly in the face of every ridiculous prejudice and barrier between you."

"Murtagh!" Arya cried in suspense. "What are you carrying on about?"

Murtagh started slightly and seemed to remember the other members of the party surrounding them. "Forgive me, everyone," he said. "These two . . . never mind. They should be the ones to share." He stepped to the side so he wouldn't be blocking Willow and Varhog.

Everyone looked expectantly at Willow and Varhog, though Hanin was smiling knowingly as if he could easily guess what had transpired.

Willow shrugged, explaining, "Well, I guess for lack of a better term, Varhog and I are engaged. I'm not sure that's how the Urgralgra would refer to it, but we intend to get married." She giggled when she looked at Eragon.

Arya glanced at her husband to see why Willow had laughed and had the same reaction. Eragon looked stunned. But Arya didn't dwell on it long before dashing over to Willow and copying Murtagh by giving her a tight embrace. "That's wonderful, Willow! I wondered what has been going on between you two lately."

"Thank you!" Willow said. "Varhog finally found the right opportunity to confess his undying love for me and that's all it took. I have been feeling much the same these past several weeks." She cast a teasing, sidelong glance up at her fiancé, and Varhog smiled down in return.

Hanin next came forward and clapped Varhog on the shoulder. "Well done, brother," he commended. "Took you long enough."

Varhog laughed. "Aye. That it did. I'm sorry to frustrate you all."

Hanin smiled. "We only worried for Willow, as I know you did." He had his turn giving Willow a warm hug. "Now you understand why I said Varhog wouldn't have approved if I had accompanied you to the lake. Are you glad you first learned of his feelings from him?"

"Indeed!" Willow exclaimed. "Hearing Varhog say 'I love you' was the most beautiful thing in the world."

"And now at the ripe old age of twenty-three, you will be getting married," Hanin stated. "How do you think that makes an eighty-year-old codger like me feel?"

"Codger?" Willow skeptically repeated. "Nonsense! But it hardly seems fair. I'll have a few words with that silver egg and tell the dragon inside that he must hatch for a stunning female so you will also be able to marry, Hanin. How's that?"

"Lovely," Hanin said with a laugh. "So what are your plans?"

Varhog cleared his throat. "Willow and I wish to make our way directly to my clan near Lake Fläm in the borders of the Spine. We will seek their approval of our union. If we obtain it, or even if we do not, we will enter into said union forthwith."

-:-:-

Eragon had always been impressed with the level of mastery and eloquence Varhog had achieved with the various languages of Alagaёsia, which was so unlike any other Urgal he had ever met.

But that emotion was _nothing_ compared to the astonishment he was now feeling upon hearing of his and Willow's plans. The others seemed to think it the most natural thing in the world, perhaps because they had known of Varhog's feelings for far longer than Eragon. But there was more to it than only that. Eragon had spent time with the Urgals during the war and knew of their customs from his studies.

After he had regained his composure enough to offer his congratulations, Eragon voiced his concern by asking, "Will your clan think highly of this, Varhog?"

"I fear not," Varhog replied. "The hatred and prejudice between our races run deep. For the most part, the Urgralgra view humans as repulsive in the same way humans do the Urgralgra. They will most likely require Willow to prove herself worthy to be the mate of an Urgal ram before regarding the match with favor, if even then. When they see how she can defeat me in single combat, it may change their opinions. But that doesn't matter. My loyalty lies foremost with the Riders and with Willow herself. I will seldom be with my clan from now on to feel their displeasure, if that is their reaction."

Eragon creased his brow. "I wouldn't miss such a historic occurrence for anything," he murmured, glancing questioningly at Arya.

"Nor I," Arya assured.

"Nor I," Murtagh echoed with another grin. "I have always wondered what a whole clan of Urgals would think if they saw a thin human girl bring down one of their strongest rams." Varhog snorted.

"May we come?" Eragon inquired.

"But of course!" Willow replied. "I wouldn't want it any other way!"

"Would that I could be there," Hanin wistfully said. "But I fear I must make my way straight to Ellesméra. Already the Choosing Ceremony has been delayed several weeks by the unusual circumstances on the Isle. There is no reason to keep the dragon in his egg any longer. He has already been waiting over a hundred years."

"And you also want to find your future mate as soon as possible," Willow teased.

"That too," Hanin easily agreed, laughing with Willow.

"Never fear, Hanin," Willow reassured. "We will miss you, but I completely understand. Won't you scry us when the dragon has chosen his new Rider? We won't be able to reach you in Du Weldenvarden."

"But of course, Willow," Hanin promised. "I will scry right away, even if there is a chance I will catch you in the middle of your honeymoon."

Willow giggled. "Then you had best scry Eragon."

"He is just as likely to catch us occupied in that way as anyone," Arya said with a laugh. "I think our honeymoon might never end."

Eragon grinned and proudly put his arm around her. "No blush, my love? That is worrisome." Arya smiled sweetly and turned her face toward him. He planted a kiss on her upturned lips before returning his attention to the others. "Well, now we know at least one stop to make. The true motivation behind this brief rest was to decide the logistics of our journey or at least of the beginning of it. Murtagh, you have covered this distance numerous times. Would you share with us what we should expect as to the length of our travels?"

Murtagh nodded. "Flying due west at a leisurely pace, we will reach Hedarth in about six days, though we could arrive sooner if necessary."

Arya interjected, "On my way to the Isle, Fírnen made the trip far faster, but we flew night and day and barely stopped at all."

"Certainly," Murtagh agreed. "I was referring to flying for maybe eight or ten hours a day, landing for every meal, and stopping each evening to camp. Thorn and I also usually make the trip more quickly, but we have come this way so many times that we have it down to an art. I rarely stop for every meal and we fly far longer each day. From Hedarth, our direction depends on where we intend to go first. Tronjheim would be our closest destination, if we wanted to go in order from nearest to farthest. Or we could fly first to the Spine and make our way back, ending with Tronjheim before we once again return to the Isle."

Eragon was thoughtful. "Perhaps we should all share what we would like to accomplish on this journey, if we wish to remain together and travel as a group or if we would better serve our purposes by dividing at some point, and how long each intends for this visit to be."

Hanin said, "As I implied, once we reach Hedarth, I will separate from the group to fulfill my purpose on this trip. Depending on how long the rest of you plan to stay, if the dragon hatches quickly, it may be that he will be ready to return with his Rider when this party also flies back to the Isle. That would require a span of at least three months, however, to give him time to grow large and strong enough. I will also deliver the brightsteel to Rhunön."

Eragon nodded. "I think it is safe to say that we will be staying at least that long, and we intend to spend some time in Ellesméra. Perhaps we can all depart from there together. Anyone else?"

In a tone somber and grim Angela said, "Perhaps now is the time to reveal my purpose on this trip. Do I have your permission, Shadeslayers?" Eragon and Arya nodded in unison.

"The conception of Eragon and Arya's child has given me great reason to be troubled," Angela began. The other Riders regarded her in confusion, so she proceeded to share a condensed version of her background, ending with, "And so the disappearance of my parents, Ellei-an and Gelarik, has been a lifelong mystery, and a very long life I have endured. I fear that Arya and Eragon may face some unknown experience at the birth of their child. But whether it will be good or bad, I cannot say. If we are able, we intend to learn something of what they might expect before the time comes. Forgive me for not appearing as pleased as the others at the announcement of your engagement, Willow and Varhog, but if the difficulty simply lies in a relationship between two of different races, then this mysterious fate may also be yours." She sighed sadly.

"If something bad might happen to Eragon, Arya, or their child, I want to be there to help them," Murtagh said, appearing deeply affected by Angela's account.

"As would I," Willow said, and Varhog also nodded. "Perhaps strength in numbers will be enough to withstand whatever may befall them."

Eragon and Arya were touched by the concern of the other Riders, and Arya's eyes shimmered with tears. "It would be an honor to have you all present at the birth of our baby," she whispered. "It may help, indeed." Then, apparently wishing to avoid further talk of such melancholy prospects, she added, " _I_ would love to be in Carvahall when Katrina has her baby. Perhaps I may be of some help, at least with the older children."

Eragon squeezed her shoulders. "I would also like that. Roran and Katrina are the two I most wish to see. And their children, of course. Their baby is due in early winter. Depending on how long we spend traveling to the Spine and with the Urgals, we could very well arrive with several weeks to spare and stay after for as long as you wish. We may not want to travel much so far north during the winter."

"If we wait for spring to resume our travels, would we have time to see Nasuada before our baby is due?" Arya wondered.

"We will either make time or simply bring the baby with us," Eragon said, and his confidence that they would be able to travel together as a family seemed to comfort Arya. "Roran and Katrina would never forgive us if we left just before our child was born and never brought it back for them to meet. We may find ourselves back and forth between the people we love for the better part of the next year before we feel satisfied to return to the Isle. Have you any objections to the notion?"

Arya shook her head and smiled. "I like the idea very much," she confessed. "We will also want to visit the elves in Ellesméra, as you said, and Orik in Tronjheim. I thought our travels might take us to eastern Du Weldenvarden to see what we may learn of Ellei-an and Gelarik, if anything. We shall be all over Alagaёsia."

"Not a difficult thing when one has a dragon to fly him about," Eragon said with a smile. Saphira snorted her amusement.

Murtagh contributed, "I would like to meet this famous cousin of mine, but I think I want to spend more time with Nasuada after that. So I will leave you after being in Carvahall for a short time."

"Very well," Eragon said. "We have much to accomplish. Perhaps it would be wise to stop and see Orik since we will be passing right by. Maybe a brief visit now then a longer one on the way back. Would that be a problem for you?" He addressed Varhog and Willow with his last question.

"Not at all!" Willow cried. "I long to see Tronjheim and meet King Orik." Varhog appeared to be in agreement. "You want to visit the library, don't you, Yelloweyes?"

"You know I do," Varhog mildly agreed.

"We have a great opportunity as Riders from all of the races to foster cooperation between the peoples we visit," Eragon said. "I haven't been back to Alagaёsia in ten years. Our presence here hasn't been strong, for we do not wish to be intimidating, but we do want the people to know that we are here for them. Let us be models of the peaceful existence we desire for Alagaёsia and work to quell the deep-seated prejudices that still must prevail in many places, particularly toward the Urgals. The fate of the land depends upon it."

This was met with a few quiet murmurs of assent. Then, wishing to be back on their way, Eragon asked with a tone of conclusion, "Is there any who needs to take advantage of this break before we resume our flight? Let us be quick and return to the skies. The dragons are not weary."


	5. Passing Through

**5\. Passing Through**

With plans in place and destinations in mind, the group made the journey to Hedarth in five days. They took time to enjoy their stops, and Murtagh showed them the natural wonders he and Thorn had discovered on their many flights to and from the Isle.

In Hedarth they parted ways with Hanin. From thence, the remainder of the group journeyed in a southwesterly direction in sight of the Az Ragni River, winging their way toward Farthen Dûr. They arrived at their destination after only a few more days' travel, on the last day of summer.

When the dwarves learned of their arrival at the entrance to the mountain, a great bustle and noise filled the air. To have five dragons arrive all together with an Urgal Rider among them was unprecedented. King Orik himself soon appeared, booming his approbation.

"Argetlam! Mine brother! And his new wife! And three other fine Riders, besides! Welcome to Tronjheim!"

-:-:-

Their time there was merry and full. Orik and Hvedra were elated to hear that Eragon and Arya were expecting. Arya had a blissful time playing with the children. Much to her delight, they called her 'Auntie' at their father's insistence, since Eragon was his adopted half-brother. Orik insisted on holding a grand feast every evening of their stay, for the bounty of the first harvest was upon them. The dragons all had the experience of tasting the dwarves' fabled mead. Orik recounted the tale of Saphira's first encounter with joyful glee, much to the amusement of all. He even asked if she would care to demonstrate the graceful bow she had favored them with at that time, which suggestion she politely and primly declined.

Varhog's presence was at first met with some reluctance. Many dwarves were still fearful and prejudiced toward the Urgralgra race, as the memory of the terrible battle on their very doorstep was still so fresh in their minds. But his friendship with Knilf had preceded him, and his fluency in their tongue surprised even the most hardened dwarf. Eragon came to see that Varhog had the most potential of all the Riders to be a diplomat, as well versed as he was in all the languages and customs of each race.

Varhog spent every spare minute he could in the great library, just as Willow had predicted. He stayed up late into the night, and Willow often fell asleep on a nearby couch as he tirelessly read tome after tome.

Murtagh's presence provoked great anger in many of the dwarves. The memory of their former king's murder was still raw and painful. But Orik finally found it in his heart to forgive Murtagh of his terrible crime. Orik's happiness in his personal life, the dwarves' prosperity under his reign, their inclusion in the Dragon Rider pact, and even Eragon's happiness, all combined to serve as a foundation on which Orik was able to understand Murtagh's difficult situation when he had taken the old king's life. Orik finally let time heal old wounds.

Orik accepted Murtagh's contrite repentance and graciously offered forgiveness in private. But Orik went so far as to call a public assembly to implore his people to lay aside their hatred and forgive Murtagh as he had. Orik recited great praise for King Hrothgar as a beloved father and ruler, but in the same moment acknowledged that with his unfortunate passing, the dwarves had been able to move forward into a new age of prosperity and safety. This was due largely to the fact that Orik's reign and connection with Eragon had provided the needed prerequisites for their participation in the pact with the dragons. The dwarves received the speech well, and many looked on Murtagh with greater tolerance than before, though he was never beloved like Willow and Arya.

Angela spent her time telling and hearing stories, showing keen interest in tales from the oldest dwarves and seeking any clue into her father's departure. She learned nothing, however, of a young dwarf lad and his mother who had fled north to the forest over seven centuries before.

Eragon couldn't have imagined their time passing more smoothly or fruitfully, but after a week of visiting, Eragon regretfully informed Orik that they meant only to pass through. Orik was disappointed since it was his first reunion with Eragon in over a decade, but it was softened when Eragon promised that he and Arya would return with their new baby so Orik could meet it before they returned to the Isle.

After many farewells and embraces, the traveling party took their leave on a cool misty morning, heading through the Beors toward the valley of the Beartooth River. From thence they turned north, soon emerging from the wide mountain pass and continuing across the southwestern edge of the great Hadarac Desert.


	6. Detour

**6\. Detour**

Since they would be passing nearly over it, the group agreed to stop for a time in Ilirea so they wouldn't have to wait several more weeks before seeing Nasuada. They intended to make this visit brief as well, out of respect for Varhog and Willow's wishes.

Murtagh decided that rather than inform Nasuada of their imminent arrival—a thing any one of them easily could have accomplished by scrying her—he wanted to surprise her. She didn't expect them for many weeks yet.

When the thunder of dragons approached the city and began to land with great gusts of wind and tremors of the earth, the citizens of Ilirea let out an excited cry. None present had any memory of such a sight. The dragons were magnificent to behold. There was an enormous black one, a fiery ruby one, one emerald green, one sunset pink-orange, and the one they loved best for her role in their freedom was Saphira, who was bluer than the bluest skies. They created a rainbow of shimmering wings, tails, and scales.

Just as the last dragon landed and its Rider dismounted in the great courtyard before the grand royal palace, Nasuada and a small entourage—among whose numbers Murtagh recognized Elva, who now appeared to be a sixteen-year-old young woman—hurried from the castle. Murtagh couldn't believe how happy he was to see Nasuada, and Eragon quietly commented to him that she looked so much healthier than when he had left ten years previously, completely recovered from all physical and emotional wounds.

Nasuada at first had eyes for no one but Murtagh, though she hadn't seen Eragon in over a decade. Completely unconcerned by how public it was or how unqueenly it might seem, Nasuada ran straight to Murtagh and threw her arms around him.

Her greeting took Murtagh by surprise. He stiffened and tentatively placed his arms around her waist, unsure of the decorum of his actions until he heard her words. In a voice full of love and longing she whispered, "Murtagh, you are here! How I missed you. Would that you never left me again."

At this, Murtagh lowered his face to her neck, for her hair was trussed up in an elegant design, and pulled her tightly against him. His tears streaked down the skin of her exposed neck as they fell from his eyes. Words failed Murtagh as his powerful emotions rendered him speechless.

Nasuada stayed in his embrace for a long while, seemingly conscious of Murtagh's reaction, for she did not move until he had time to compose himself.

Murtagh had time to consider a few important things while he held Nasuada in his arms. The first was that no matter how many times they revisited their familiar debate of mortal versus immortal, nothing had changed nor would it in the foreseeable future, so what was the point? Murtagh knew he would deeply regret it for the rest of his frustratingly long life if he refused to have a relationship with Nasuada on the grounds that it would only end in heartache. He also felt her undeniable acceptance of him, powerfully implied in her poignant words and by the tone of her voice.

So with all of these considerations in mind, when they finally stepped apart and before he lost his courage, Murtagh kept hold of her hands and surprised everyone around by falling to one knee. He gazed up into her face and in a clear, strong voice said, "Nasuada, from the moment I first laid eyes on you, I have admired you for the amazing woman you are. Never before then or after have I met someone with such intelligence, charm, and determination. I will never feel worthy of you, should you accept me right now, but if I don't ask, I will regret it for the rest of my undesirably long life. Will you marry me?"

Nasuada was clearly astonished by his forthrightness, but even that emotion was surpassed by her joy. "Yes, Murtagh. I _will_ marry you. I thought you would _never_ ask." And she burst out laughing. Murtagh did too as he stood and swept her into another tight embrace. Before letting her go, he bent down and tenderly kissed her.

Murtagh looked up and grinned when Eragon began clapping. He raised his eyebrows at his half-brother, but Eragon only shrugged as if to say, _I couldn't help it. It seemed only right._ Arya gave a delighted cry and joined her husband, as did Willow. The crowd all around took up the effort, cheering and whooping, all of which was drowned out by Thorn's unrestrained celebration. He released a deafening roar of triumph and raised his giant head toward the sky, loosing a river of ruby flames that shot hundreds of feet in the air. Murtagh knew that Thorn had never felt him so purely happy, and his dragon reveled in it. Murtagh also happened to notice Elva, who had a blissful expression on her face. He guessed there wasn't a person within her range of perception who felt pain or sorrow at that moment.

-:-:-

Nasuada's cheeks were wet with tears as Murtagh finally released her, although he kept firm hold of one of her hands. But she wasn't ashamed. Regarding all around her with calm certainty, her bearing truly regal, she said, "Forgive me for neglecting you thus, Riders. My heart demanded my attention, and I finally relented after years of denying it. See how I have been rewarded?" She raised the hand joined with Murtagh's and laughed once more as another round of cheering broke out.

When it quieted enough, Nasuada continued in a resounding voice, "Welcome to Ilirea! I never imagined to behold a sight such as this. Five noble dragons and their Riders appearing on my doorstep, bearing old friends and good tidings." She stepped toward Eragon and gave him an embrace of equal sincerity as her first, though without the love and longing.

"I know we have spoken in my absence, but I've missed you, Nasuada," Eragon said. "It is wonderful to see you."

"Yes, it is. And see how you have grown. A husband now!"

"And soon to be a father," Eragon proudly added.

This was the first Nasuada had heard his and Arya's news. A look of pure delight crossed her face as she turned to Arya and gave yet another embrace full of joy and warmth. "Is it truly so?" she wondered. Arya only nodded happily.

"Congratulations then!" Nasuada declared. "I never thought it would be. Here is another love as long in the making as ours, Murtagh. Perhaps we will also be so quickly blessed in our union."

"Nothing would bring me greater joy," Murtagh assured her, and from the look in his eyes, Nasuada saw that he longed to give her the family Galbatorix's torturous illusion had cruelly teased at.

Nasuada raised her voice again, proclaiming, "We have a wedding and celebration to plan! Let us not delay the happiness of my marriage. Spread the word! On the morrow the queen will marry her love!"

A great flurry of activity arose as servants bustled in many directions to fulfill their beloved queen's wishes, leaving the rest of them mostly alone.

"Tomorrow?" Murtagh asked. "Is that not too soon for these preparations to be completed?"

"I am the queen, Murtagh," Nasuada responded, smiling patiently. "I do not often exploit that as you see me now doing, but in this instance, I thought to have at least your understanding, if not your approbation."

"Indeed, I do not object," Murtagh asserted, returning her smile.

"Even if a magnificent celebration could not be planned," Nasuada went on, "I would still marry you tomorrow—in a burlap sack if need be—to put an end to our insufferable waiting."

Murtagh nodded his agreement. "Why _have_ we waited so long?"

"Because you never thought to ask until now!" Nasuada cried with some exasperation.

"Forgive me, my dear, though you already have . . . of so much. I will redeem my tardiness by doing my best to make you the happiest woman alive."

"You have some fierce competition there," Arya murmured.

Eragon stepped forward and clapped his brother in a tight embrace. "It's a relief that I need no longer endure your pained looks of envy, Murtagh," he joked. "Now you will experience the joys of marriage for yourself, and the Riders will no longer have lovesick, miserable fools moping about."

Murtagh laughed at Eragon's first comment, but his eyes displayed concern after the last. "Can I be spared on the Isle?" he seriously asked.

"Yes, of course," Eragon reassured him. "Nasuada might like to have a Rider closer at hand, and time has healed the old wounds between you and the dwarves. You can now be at peace in Alagaёsia, can you not?"

"I believe so," Murtagh said, looking at Nasuada.

" _Yes,_ you _can_ ," she insisted. "I can't bear to have you leave again. Seeing you for so brief a time every few years is intolerable."

"I agree," Murtagh softly said.

Nasuada then turned to regard the other two Riders who accompanied the three she had already greeted, intending to welcome them as well. The proud Urgal ram demanded her attention in an inexplicable way. Instead of greeting him, Nasuada simply stared at him and tried to identify _why_ she would feel the need to do such a thing. She thought she remembered his name from when Arya mentioned it so many years prior. Varhog, perhaps.

He seemed different from other Urgal rams Nasuada had interacted with but what the difference was, she hardly knew. It was as if. . . . A sudden heat filled Nasuada's cheeks, and she was grateful her dark skin would hide the blush. The reason for her embarrassment was that she finally identified why her gaze had been drawn to the Urgal. There was a strange sensual appeal about him that Nasuada couldn't deny. It reminded her of the involuntary reaction she and all other human women had whenever in the presence of Blödhgarm the elf. But she had been around Urgals before and _never_ felt such an impression in their presence. Their appearance was too alien.

The Urgal had the characteristic gray skin, yellow eyes, and impressive curling horns of all adult Urgals, but something about his features had an exotic beauty to them. They were broad and strong and handsome. An almost imperceptible crease of the Urgal's brow, who had been returning her own searching gaze with an impassive expression, suddenly alerted Nasuada to the untowardness of her actions. Murtagh also shifted uncomfortably beside her, and Nasuada realized that he was painfully aware of the bold nature of her examination.

She blinked, trying to shake off the strange effect, which was when she noticed that the tall woman standing next to the Urgal—closer to him, Nasuada thought, than she would have expected—was smiling broadly, understanding in her eyes.

With embarrassing bluntness the woman unexpectedly said, "This isn't the first time in recent weeks that a human female has discovered the animalistic attraction of an Urgal ram, now is it, Yelloweyes?" She grabbed the Urgal's hand, glancing up at him with a sly smile, which he returned with a slightly self-conscious expression.

Nasuada knew there was no hope of hiding her awkwardness now, dark skin or not. But the woman diffused the tension in the air with a light laugh and playful nudge of the Urgal. "I can't say I blame you, Your Majesty," she said. "For _I_ am the very human female I mean and Varhog the very Urgal ram. I wouldn't resent you for admitting you thought him handsome, though I fear he has already pledged his affection to me." Another delighted laugh escaped her lips, one which Eragon, Arya, and—much to Nasuada's relief—Murtagh all shared. The Urgal also rumbled deep within his chest with his version of a chuckle. _T_ _hey_ all seemed familiar with the uncanny ability this woman had of making Nasuada feel both completely mortified and perfectly at ease in the same moment.

From Nasuada's side Murtagh said, "Willow was like a bright ray of sunshine when she joined the Riders seven years ago. She is so uncommon and amazing that she has captured the admiration of a proud Urgal ram, the first known occurrence of such a thing." He gave the praise with casual ease, and Nasuada turned to look at him. She could see that both he and Eragon viewed Willow as a beloved younger sister, what with the indulgent albeit exasperated smiles on their faces.

Nasuada returned her gaze to the woman, unable to hide her astonishment. "Willow?" she breathed.

"The very same, Your Majesty," Willow confirmed with a graceful curtsy, complete with a pantomime of holding out invisible skirts. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

Nasuada could hardly believe her eyes. When Murtagh had first presented Willow to Nasuada after she was chosen as a Rider, Willow had been pale and frail. Nasuada hadn't been able to quell a sense of disappointment that a dragon would hatch for someone who seemed so timid and awkward, with sad eyes and a drawn face, as if she had experienced too much sorrow for her young age.

Now it seemed that Nasuada was getting her first view of what the dragon must have sensed when presented with the girl—a strong, confident, unique woman who would have far greater impact on the world than she ever dreamed possible. Willow was tall and muscular, with a form similar to the build of an elf though not quite as slender—her shape was more curved and feminine.

She wore the same type of clothing Nasuada had always known Arya to wear—fitted leather leggings and coat over her shirt, along with knee-high leather riding boots. Nasuada didn't find it hard to believe that a dress would be completely illogical for a Dragon Rider, not only for the purposes of flying on a dragon, but also for all of the intensive combat training they engaged in.

Willow's eyes and hair were a warm, shining brown. The former now sparkled with delight, and the latter was secured in a casual twist, though a few free wisps framed her face in a windswept look.

"I hardly recognize you!" Nasuada declared. "You are so altered from when first we met as to almost be an entirely different person. You are strong, beautiful, poised . . ." Nasuada was stunned.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Willow accepted with an easy grace. "Training on the Isle is not for the faint of heart. Varhog, in particular, has been a most demanding mentor. Though I have recently come to learn that he viewed our many contests as something of a courtship ritual." She lifted her other hand to hold around Varhog's arm, casting another teasing smile toward him while he smiled affectionately in return. The expression transformed his face, and Nasuada truly could see how Willow found him attractive.

" _Contests?_ " Nasuada wondered in disbelief. " _You_ fight _him_?" Though Willow was tall and strong, more so than Nasuada, next to Varhog she appeared the daintiest woman imaginable. His shoulders were twice as broad as Willow's, and his arms were thicker than her thighs. Had Willow been standing in front of Varhog, the top of her head would have reached the middle of Varhog's deeply muscular chest.

Willow nodded proudly, but Murtagh was the one to say, "She can best him in hand-to-hand combat like none of the rest of us can. It's incredible, something you truly have to see to believe." Nasuada noticed the even deeper look of pride in the Urgal's countenance. She knew what such a feat would mean to their race. No wonder he admired her so greatly, as was undeniably clear in the way he looked every time he glanced at her.

"Did you also say 'courtship ritual'?" Nasuada asked, unable to resist satisfying her curiosity on the other unbelievable point of Willow's earlier explanation. "Do you mean to say. . . ? That is . . ." Nasuada had no idea how to phrase the thought, as ridiculous and impossible as it seemed to her.

Willow nodded again. "We mean to marry, or whatever happens when an Urgal and human form a union. There isn't even a word for it, since it has never happened before, at least as far as we know. Barring any further delays, once we are finished with our visit here, we will travel to Varhog's village near Lake Fläm and do what must be done to enter into that union."

Nasuada was dumbstruck, and her jaw worked soundlessly. She had never had such difficulty replying to someone. And as high queen of Alagaёsia, that was truly saying something. "What you say is . . . unprecedented. I never would have imagined, ever, a human and an Urgal desiring such a thing, so fiery and profound is the mutual prejudice and revulsion both races feel for one another, even after all that happened during the war. If you truly mean to do this thing, you two will have the ability to bridge the gap and overcome the differences between your races in a way no one else could ever hope to accomplish."

Then when Nasuada realized that she had never officially greeted the Urgal, who hadn't yet spoken a single syllable, she turned to him and formally said, "Forgive me, Rider, for my brazen examination of you before. As it seems everyone was painfully aware of it, there is no reason for me to pretend innocence. Welcome to Ilirea. Since your dragon hatched from one of those under Arya's care rather than Murtagh's guardianship, I did not have the pleasure of meeting you before you journeyed to the Isle of the Eldunarí. I am Nasuada."

Varhog raised his chin to her in the gesture of friendship customary to his race before pressing both of his fists against his forehead, a show of respect for her position of leadership. When he spoke, Nasuada was completely unprepared. She was accustomed to deep, accented, clipped phrases from Urgals who knew enough of the common tongue to communicate with it. They were short and direct, with no pretense of eloquence. But Varhog—whose voice was still unusually deep, far more so than any human man—had only the faintest trace of an accent and his eloquence seemed completely natural.

He said, "I am Varhog of the Bolvek tribe, Your Majesty. Great is the fame of Lady Nightstalker among the members of my clan. My uncle is Nar Garzhvog, the Kull war chief who allied with you and the Varden in your fight against the empire. My elder brother, Yarbog, fought alongside Roran Stronghammer, Firesword's cousin. I too was among the fighting rams of the Bolvek tribe who fought with the Varden, but in my youth I was not worthy of notice or leadership. My brother and I joined their ranks after the Battle under Farthen Dûr—where our sire was killed—seeking revenge on Galbatorix."

Varhog then performed an unusual ritual, speaking words in a language none but Nasuada and Arya recognized, though Nasuada could see that Arya had no idea what he said. He extended his arms in front of him at a low angle with his palms facing up—though his hands were in fists—to expose the underside of his forearms. With his hands and arms thus, he bowed stiffly, lowering his head in what would have been a threatening manner to an Urgal, though it was an important part of this ceremony. He straightened, waiting silently after relaxing his arms by his side.

When his strange bow was complete, everyone looked at him and Nasuada expectantly, hoping for an explanation of what had just transpired. Nasuada was stunned, and tears shone in her eyes. " _How_ did you know to do that?" she quietly demanded.

"I studied the various customs of all the races, clans, and peoples of Alagaёsia," Varhog replied simply.

"But _no one_ could have taught you that save one from the Wandering Tribes," Nasuada insisted. "Such an obeisance has never been written or recorded in a book."

"I didn't learn it from a book," Varhog clarified. "I learned it from the Eldunarí. They have knowledge that stretches back thousands of years and encompasses all reaches of the land. They can place images in one's mind as well as thoughts and words."

"What did you do?" Eragon asked.

Nasuada answered, "He performed an obscure, ancient gesture of respect given to one of my native people who has been a victor in the Trial of the Long Knives, thus the exposure of the forearms."

"And what did you say, Varhog?" Arya pressed. "I recognized the language as one of the dialects of the Wandering Tribes but do not know it myself."

Again Nasuada replied in obvious amazement, "He paid me homage as a revered ruler and proven war chief, invoking upon me the blessings of Unulukuna and Gokukara, two of the gods my tribesmen reverence. Even your accent was all but perfect," she said to Varhog, and he shrugged modestly.

Nasuada demanded, "How many languages can you speak?"

"At least five fluently, some various dialects moderately well, and with a conversational understanding of a few others—but in those, I wouldn't be able to converse freely."

"What are the five?" Nasuada wondered, her astonishment ever increasing. She would never have thought to categorize an Urgal as a wise and learned scholar, which was a mild reminder to her of the prejudices she still held against the race.

Varhog said, "Urgralish, Dwarvish, the common tongue, the ancient language, and the main dialect of the Wandering Tribes, the one I addressed you in."

Varhog was so unpretentious that Nasuada couldn't help but admire it. "That is impressive indeed," she approved as the others nodded their agreement.

Varhog shrugged dismissively once more. "I never learned the common tongue as well as my uncle or brother, thinking it unnecessary and even somewhat disgraceful. But it was such a barrier when I began my training with Arya that I vowed I would overcome it as soon as I was able. Being able to communicate with all of the races the dragons now bond with seemed an important ability to have. If I am to live a very long life, I was sure I would have need of it someday, and today proved me right, as well as my time with the dwarves."

He continued, "The Eldunarí are excellent instructors. I can't imagine a better way to learn a language than their method. When you can hear the sounds in your mind and see the associated images in the same moment, it seems the most natural thing in the world to think about and refer to them in that language. If you can think coherent thoughts in a foreign language, you should also be able to express them in words, especially if the perfect pronunciation is right inside your head.

"I spent almost my entire second year on the Isle—after Knilf arrived and before Willow did—hiding out in the Cave of the Eldunarí and mastering use of the languages. After Knilf and I became friends, he helped me with Dwarvish, which is a language the dragons were not as familiar with. And they also had little knowledge of the Urgralish tongue. My advantage of being a native is not lost on me. It is difficult for one to learn when they do not grow up with it. The sounds and uses of the mouth, tongue, and throat are very foreign to those who speak the common tongue or the ancient language from their childhood."

It was the longest speech Nasuada had ever heard an Urgal make. Varhog seemed passionate about the learning of languages. She saw in him the makings of a fine diplomat and expressed her thought to him by saying, "It seems you would be a worthy ambassador among the races, as devoted as you are to understanding and learning about different cultures and languages."

Eragon said, "I thought the same thing when we visited the dwarves. They were all very suspicious of him and understandably so, but it never failed to amaze even the most determined antagonist when Varhog addressed them as if a native speaker in their own language. It considerably changed their opinion of him as an Urgal."

"A sentiment I can relate with increasingly by the moment," Nasuada agreed. She noticed Willow's look of pride. "So you and Willow intend to marry then? How do you think your clan will receive this news, Varhog?"

Varhog's expression changed to one of concern. "Not well, I fear," he replied. "As Willow said, such a thing as we intend has never been known in all the history, oral or written, of either of our peoples. They will be suspicious and angry. Furious even, if I know them, which I do. I know what my own feelings would have been had someone presumed to suggest such an abomination before I knew and fell in love with Willow. It would have been the most heinous act imaginable to join with a repulsive, bloodthirsty human. Yes," he confirmed as Nasuada raised her eyebrows in surprise, "difficult as it is to believe, we Urgralgra consider humans to be as murderous and violent as you view us. Speaking as a whole, of course. I personally do not share that view. There have been many notable exceptions in more recent history. You yourself, Lady Nightstalker. Firesword, of course, and Stronghammer. The Games Firesword started have been a starting point for the slow, arduous process of overcoming age-old prejudices."

Varhog paused and looked at Willow. He continued by addressing them all, but more specifically her, "This is something I meant to bring up as it was, Eartheyes. We don't have to have the approval of my clan, but if, by some improbable measure, we are able to obtain it, I think it would be a very good thing for our races and the peace of Alagaёsia as a whole. But it will be hard-won. Being the first Urgal Dragon Rider has given me a reputation among the Urgralgra that they will not willingly see tarnished. As unfortunate as it is to admit, they will view our union as something that would do just that—tarnish my reputation. I don't care about their opinion as much as I care about being with you, but I think there may be a way we could accomplish both without sacrificing either."

Willow nodded. "I agree, Yelloweyes. And from our conversation right after leaving the Isle, I am familiar with what might be expected of me. Why don't you edify these others?"

Varhog turned toward the others and explained, "As I'm sure you have already guessed, Willow will best prove her claim on me by fighting and defeating me, which she can do with increasing ease every time we grapple. But—and this is what I fear—they may insist that she best at least three opponents, just as a ram is expected to do before proving his eligibility to marry. Anyone could step forward to fight her, even a Kull."

Willow seemed unsurprised, though the others all exhibited various reactions of disbelief and concern. "I had considered it a possibility," she admitted. "I keep thinking of how Nar Garzhvog bested the cave bear. It wouldn't be much different for me against a Kull, though I don't have the strength of an Urgal's bare hands."

Nasuada scoffed and exclaimed, "Are you honestly suggesting you would let Willow go against a Kull in single combat? That's madness! Would they fight to the death? If she were killed, what good would that do but reinforce the Urgals' misconceptions?"

"I would not let Willow get hurt," Varhog said in a dangerous tone. "Fighting to kill was the way of the past. As you all know, a ram must now only subdue his opponent. Most of the clans have seen the necessity of this amendment—to allow the Urgralgra to continue living in this land—and have likewise adapted it, though reluctantly in some cases."

"But I do see your concern, and it _is_ valid," Varhog continued. "She could be in terrible danger and sustain grievous injuries. You wouldn't worry as much if you knew how she fights. She's impossible to catch, and her small size next to an Urgal is what makes her triumph even possible. Firesword, Murtagh, and some of the other Riders have tried to beat me the same way Willow does, but I can reach them to pull them off my back because they're bigger and broader."

"Wait, do you mean to say that she jumps on your back?" Nasuada cried.

"Aye," Varhog affirmed, "and strangles me until I almost pass out. I can't reach her because of where she perches in the middle of my back, and I've never been able to pry her arms away from my neck, though it should be easy. My fingers are too thick to get around her arms where she lodges them, and though she is not strong compared to me, she's strong enough to restrict the air and blood flow to my head and body. Within seconds usually, I collapse. But Willow, if this is expected of you when I present you to my clan, you must persist in your stranglehold until I actually pass out."

"But what if that hurt you?" Willow objected.

"No, it won't hurt me. I might have a headache when I recover, but nothing worse. The Urgralgra need to see that you could kill me if you wished. That would never happen unless I was unconscious because I could always fight back before. If you were expected to fight again, of which I am still unsure, you would have to do the same with your other opponents. I know you are capable of it, but three in a row would be enough to tire your arms. If you faced a Kull, you would need to hold on even longer since his neck would be wider and stronger. We need not even go, but if you won their approval in this manner, you would always have their respect and loyalty, even as you do mine."

"I would do this and more to prove myself worthy of you, Yelloweyes," Willow said. "I'm not afraid of a few Urgals." Nasuada was amazed by the sincerity in Willow's countenance—it was clear that she truly loved Varhog.

"I would fight more like an Urgal than ever before," Varhog warned. "It would be necessary. I have never gone easy on you, but I've also never bellowed and roared and done any number of other bestial things we do when fighting. They must see you overcome me at my fiercest."

"Hmm," Willow thoughtfully said, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Perhaps we could practice before arriving in your village so you can demonstrate for me. Then I could observe what you mean and prepare accordingly."

"Yes, we could do that," Varhog agreed. "Would that I could see the look in their eyes when you take me down. But I'll be unconscious. Why were you almost smiling just then?"

"Imagining you bellow and roar strikes me as funny," Willow replied. "I can see myself bursting out laughing. Not that I can't picture it, of course, because you're terrifying enough. I simply think my reaction would be amusement, odd as it sounds."

"If it truly were, it would give you an advantage," Varhog said. "Can any of you picture Willow facing Nar Garzhvog and him bellowing at her, only to have her laugh in his face?" Now a smile crossed his features, and everyone laughed. Apparently they could see her doing just that. "He would be furious that his frightening intimidation technique did nothing more than amuse her, and it would make him rash and impulsive. If that is what you feel to do if the situation ever presents itself, I would suggest doing it."

"Very well," Willow replied. "I shall."

Nasuada suddenly announced, "I would be present for this, if I may be so bold as to invite myself. Do you object, Willow, Varhog?"

They both shook their heads, and Willow cried, "Of course not! It would be a great honor to have the high queen present for our union."

Varhog added, "The people of my clan would likewise be honored by a visit from the famed Lady Nightstalker."

"It is high time I make another visit anyway," Nasuada said, a hint of worry entering her voice. "We have been having more problems with the northern Urgal tribes. Nar Garzhvog has done all he can to assist me in maintaining peace between our races. He has sent many of his fighting rams to fortify Carvahall, which is the strongest human city up north. The Urgals are agreeable to this since they still honor Roran. Carvahall takes in many refugees from smaller human settlements in the vicinity when the Urgals begin seeking out conflict, but we still haven't been able to figure out why we have such problems with those tribes up there when we have none with the southern tribes down here. It seems to flare up every summer when a Dragon Rider returns to the land, particularly each year a new human Rider is chosen."

Varhog's face twisted in concern. "I think I may have an idea as to why, Your Majesty."

"Oh?" Nasuada said. "Won't you please enlighten me?"

"It most likely has to do with King Kulkarvek in Anghelm. He is the only war chief all the others recognize as ruler over the Urgralgra, since he can defeat anyone who stands against him. The other Urgal Rider, Grintuk, is from Anghelm, and he reminded me right before we left the Isle of the king's grievances against humans, dragons, and especially _human_ Dragon Riders. No one really knows whys he hates them so much, but that he does is universally known by any member of the Delvhtuk clan. When I was chosen as a Dragon Rider, and when Grintuk was as well, the king ranted hatefully about how he wanted to eradicate humans from Alagaёsia."

"The king," Nasuada wearily said. "I hear mention of this mysterious figure but know absolutely nothing about him. We need to get to the bottom of this. I fear another war will break out if there is a powerful monarch who feels the way you suggest this Kulkarvek feels towards humans, which is an ironic twist on how Galbatorix felt toward the Urgralgra. He too believed the whole race should be exterminated. The friendship between our races is already shaky enough. The humans have a hard time believing that the Urgals are trying to change their ways when they continue to raid their villages, pillaging and killing. They know little about the different tribes and nothing about an Urgal king who might be organizing everything. Fortunately, we have had few casualties because of Garzhvog's assistance, but if tensions escalate, we will surely begin to see more deaths." She sighed and rubbed her eyes.

Then with great effort she squared her shoulders and smiled graciously. "But let us not dwell any longer on these melancholy subjects, at least not right now. We have a wedding to prepare! Come, Murtagh. I am sure someone will be wanting us for the fitting of some fine wedding apparel or other. After the celebration is over, we will not delay our departure for Varhog's village any longer than necessary, and we will then have the chance to travel as man and wife. We need never be apart ever again," Nasuada finished, pulling on Murtagh's hand to guide him toward the palace.

-:-:-

As the group began following after her and Murtagh, the dragons all left together, and Eragon explained that Saphira intended to show them the outcropping over the city. In spite of all the happiness and anticipation, Eragon noticed Murtagh's expression after Nasuada's assertion that they would always remain together. They both knew it wouldn't be true, for in time she would die.

For the first time, Elva looked pained as she observed the two brothers and experienced their sorrow. Knowing Murtagh would do the same if their roles were reversed, Eragon silently vowed, _Brother, if I can find a way to make her declaration a reality, I will do it. I swear._

In spite of his grim expression, Eragon saw Murtagh's gratitude, and Eragon determined to keep despairing thoughts from his mind during this time of joy.

-:-:-

Arya helped Eragon to that end. Her desire to be with him proved as insatiable as she had predicted. They had been traveling from Tronjheim for days, which hadn't allowed them as much privacy as they wished. That night, however, they found themselves alone at last in an ornate chamber, and they once again enjoyed one another's intimate love.

Eragon still could not perceive any change in her body, though the baby was yet again so different when he reached it with his mind. Arya was now eight weeks pregnant by her estimation. As he gently stroked her back, Eragon asked, "When will your womb begin to swell? You seem no different from before, but the baby is so changed."

"Soon, I would expect. No part of me is different to you?" Arya pressed in a mischievous tone of voice.

Eragon had the uneasy feeling that he had missed something obvious and she was now pointing it out. He thought carefully, not wanting to upset her. "You womb seems no bigger though perhaps your breasts do," he finally ventured. "Do they too change during the baby's growth?"

"Very perceptive, my darling," Arya approved.

Eragon sighed in relief, and she laughed. "It wasn't a test, Eragon. I only meant to tease. Yes, most women's breasts do change in preparation for the birth of their baby so they will be ready to feed it once born, growing in size and weight as the function of the breast—that is, to produce milk—is prepared. Human women feed their babies at the breast, do they not?"

"Mm-hmm," Eragon murmured, caressing hers as they spoke of them and savoring how warm, soft, and full they were. "Does that mean I might get a mouthful of milk if I carry on in my usual habits after our baby is born?" He gave her a roguish grin.

He was completely unconcerned by the notion, which seemed to surprise and gratify Arya. "I suppose it does," she said. "You don't seem to mind the thought, which is very mature of you."

"Because I'm so very mature now," Eragon joked in a voice of mock formality, which earned him a soft laugh. "No, Arya, I truly don't mind the thought. I'm sure the milk will taste good. It must, judging by how eager suckling infants always seem to be." He grinned again as she blushed faintly.

"I love seeing you blush," he said, stroking her soft cheek. "I can't wait to be a father, Arya, and what's more, to see you a mother. I will gladly share your body with our little one. You will be the bringer of life to our family, to me in a different way than to our baby. Without you, my life wasn't one at all."

Arya blinked as tears suddenly appeared in her eyes, inspired by his selfless sentiment. "Thank you, Eragon," she whispered. "Murtagh truly is mistaken if he thinks he can make Nasuada happier than you make me. Your insight never ceases to amaze me."

"We are right for each other, just as they are," Eragon said, raising his fingers to brush the tears from the corners of her eyes. "I think he _will_ make her as happy as I do you, though I don't mean to sound arrogant saying that. I'm merely echoing your words. It would be wonderful if they could also have children so quickly. Then there would be cousins. Children make the world a happier place."

"I couldn't agree more," Arya said, and the tears then spilled down her cheeks as he continued to reveal his gentle wisdom. "Do you think we might really have more than one?" Eragon could see that she hardly dared believe it was possible.

"Why not?" he insisted. "If your fertility depends on your happiness and contentment and you never age, then we could have a hundred."

"A hundred!" Arya murmured, obviously too mesmerized by the idea to dismiss it completely. "Even _I_ might not be able to handle that."

"And why not?" Eragon insisted again, this time teasingly. "For by the time the hundredth one came along, the eldest would be over a century and plenty able to help in caring for the younger ones."

Arya giggled. Eragon loved the sound as much as ever, and he chuckled along with her. "I love you so much it almost hurts sometimes, Arya." He nuzzled her neck with his chin, taking care to tickle with his beard, which he had kept trimmed to the length she desired ever since she first requested he keep it. "You make _me_ the happiest man in the world. Every day I count my blessings that somehow I got you after all those years of waiting. I would do anything for you."

Arya's tears hadn't stopped since they had first begun, and Eragon's efforts of clearing them away were becoming increasingly futile.

As she sheepishly blinked her eyes, Eragon asked in concern, "Are you well, my love?"

"More than well," Arya laughed through her crying, "though I'm sure I must seem ridiculous. I am touched by how thoughtful and sweet you are. And I can't seem to stop these tears, though I am not sad. Would it be easier for your modesty if we blame it on the pregnancy?"

"I'm not sure it would help," Eragon mournfully said, "for that too was my doing."

Arya smiled and murmured, "I know what you mean about loving me so much it hurts. And since I want to and can, instead of trying to express in words how deeply I love you, I'll simply show you again." So she did, and her actions spoke far louder than words as she opened her mind to Eragon and engulfed him in her tender passion. As they drifted into their waking dreams with their arms around each other, all seemed right with the world despite the uncertainties their future held.


	7. Wedding Fit for a Queen

**7\. Wedding Fit for a Queen**

With only a day to make preparations, the palace was a frenzy of activity all through the night. But by noon the following day, countless palace staff had prepared and plated a colorful display of rich cheeses, fresh fruits and vegetables, warm breads, aromatic meats, and a variety of dips and spreads common to the kingdom, alongside an artistic arrangement of the most succulent sweets imaginable. Large bowls of punch capped off one end of the buffet. These tables formed a natural border along one side of the enormous pavilion they erected and decorated to shelter as many guests as desired to come—more than anyone attempted to count. Hundreds, if not thousands, of white roses artfully wove all around the palace grounds, even finding way into Nasuada's stunning gown and elegant hairstyle.

According to the expectations of the high queen's many loyal subjects, the couple agreed to a more traditional ceremony than what Eragon and Arya had experienced. Once the crowds had assembled, Murtagh appeared and mounted a raised platform at one end of the expansive pavilion, looking tall and regal in fine leather pants and boots polished to a high sheen. His handsome silk shirt was only barely visible under the billowing ruby red cape surrounding his shoulders—no doubt in honor of Thorn, who was obviously present and standing just behind Murtagh outside of the pavilion. Above the small smile gracing his lips, Murtagh's clear blue eyes shone with a joy rarely seen by his friends. The calm assurance in his features lent to his princely bearing, which seemed only appropriate, as he was about to become one.

But all eyes turned expectantly away from Murtagh as a familiar wedding march drifted over the onlookers from the direction of the court musicians. On Jörmundur's arm, Nasuada stepped to the aisle formed between the large gathering. Her loyal advisor and war general had remained in Ilirea to continue in Nasuada's service and had humbly agreed to stand in for Nasuada's deceased father to give her hand in marriage. But few people paid the grizzled old veteran any mind, for the radiance of the accompanying bride demanded their attention.

A striking array of contrasts defined Nasuada's appearance, the first of which was her flowing white gown against her dark brown skin. The second was composed of the crown of perfect white roses nestled in her dense black hair, which was styled in a mesmerizing column of twists, curls, and braids descending to the middle of her back. Nasuada held a single white rose in her free hand, but her most significant feature perfectly matched that of her waiting groom—the smile of surpassing joy that widened with every step she took. Her deep-brown, almond shaped eyes never wavered from Murtagh's face, and by the time she reached him, they were shimmering with tears.

Both Murtagh and Nasuada had requested that Eragon solemnize their union, which he graciously accepted. After sharing a few words, Eragon invited Murtagh and Nasuada to exchange their vows, which they simply and sincerely did. A great rumble of joy swelled over the attendees as the couple shared their first kiss as man and wife. The dragons—all of whom were present along with Thorn—trumpeted and roared their approval, each embellishing the sky with their unique shade of flame.

The royal couple descended from the dais into the eager crowd, accepting congratulations and extending thanks at every hand, which continued for a seemingly endless duration. Upon an unspoken cue, the court musicians—perhaps sensing the increasing confusion and restlessness in the milling assembly—struck up a lively tune, and a dance ensued. With plenty of partners to go around, the most important of which were the women they loved, the three male Riders enjoyed themselves more than ever before. Even Varhog joined in with Willow, much to the amusement of all who saw, though his grace and coordination inspired an equivalent degree of admiration for one so large and hulking. Eragon and Arya both commented about how their faces were sore by the end, so long and widely had they smiled and laughed.

The dance also lasted for an inestimable time, but it naturally segued into a merry feast. The citizens of the high queen's kingdom had worked up hearty appetites and were anxious to follow the examples of the many young children present, whose boredom and hunger had driven them to begin sneakily sampling the mouth-watering selection from the heavily laden buffet tables.

The Dragon Riders, who received almost as much attention as the newlyweds, sat near the high queen as her guests of honor. Varhog mentioned that he was grateful for the many meat-based entrees. He and Grintuk were the only Riders who could not subsist wholly on the plant-based diet of the rest. Their bodies were too vast. Certain differences in their appearance also seemed to indicate that their bodies had some need of the animal flesh—their horns, sharp teeth, and claw-like fingernails, which were all features shared by certain predatory animals to allow them to kill prey and consume its raw flesh. On the Isle, when their bodies demanded it, the Urgals simply ate meat from one of their dragons' kills, never requesting that it become a regular part of the other Riders' fare.

Willow jokingly commented to Murtagh that he ought to make more bets, for even the wishful-thinking aspect of his wager on the Isle had come true. Of those who had guessed how long Eragon and Arya would be gone on their honeymoon, _he—_ the winner—was the next to enjoy the happiness of marriage.

When dusk fell not long after, Murtagh began to tire of the festivities and longed to be alone with his radiant bride. He took Nasuada's hand from where he sat beside her at the head of the table and gave her a solemn look, which she immediately understood.

The queen arose and, in a voice magically magnified by the effort of her new husband, addressed the crowd in the pavilion, thanking them for sharing in the joy of her celebration and expressing her love for her loyal subjects, who clearly loved her in return. Nasuada then insisted that the frivolities carry on in her absence and excused herself to be with her charming prince. This too was met with much cheering and pounding of the tables. Murtagh also stood, keeping hold of her hand as they strode regally from the pavilion toward the palace.

As they disappeared up the hill, Arya murmured to Eragon, "This truly was a wedding fit for a queen. They are both so deserving of every happiness."

Eragon kissed her to show his agreement and asked if she too would like to retire, to which suggestion Arya readily consented. Eragon guessed that the weariness in her eyes was due to a combination of factors—their late night, this long day, the vigorous dancing, and the demands of her pregnancy. They also stood and said goodnight to those near enough to hear before returning to their chamber in the palace.


	8. Sisters

**8\. Sisters**

The visiting Riders spent the next day in a leisurely manner. The palace staff was busy cleaning up the previous day's celebration, and the queen and her prince were nowhere to be seen the better part of the day. No one went looking for them.

Arya found herself with Willow in the garden, while Eragon took Varhog to meet Jeod Longshanks, thinking it might be an introduction they would each appreciate.

As the women wandered the meandering paths between manicured lawns and wild flower beds, Willow grabbed Arya's arm and linked her own through it, as if she couldn't restrain herself for the abundance of joy she felt. With her defining sincerity she cried, "So many weddings and so much happiness! I couldn't be gladder for my two older brothers! No other two men deserved this as much as they."

Arya beamed at her in return and said, "I couldn't agree more, Willow. And _you_ will soon enjoy such a blessed occasion."

"Yes, though it won't be as fine as yesterday, I dare say. From what Varhog told me, I'm expecting brawls and bruises over dancing and drinking, though there may also be some of that, if I know anything about men." She giggled, and so did Arya.

Arya asked, as Willow had once asked her, "Are you nervous? To be married, or whatever it shall be."

"No, not at all," Willow said. "Varhog is my dearest friend. It may be that I have only known I love him for a matter of months, but we have been friends so long that this now seems the natural next step. I'm proud he wants me for his mate. I consider it a high honor that I will be the only woman in history with an Urgal ram for a husband."

"You truly are unique, Willow. He's lucky to have you."

"Thank you! I feel the same. Varhog is amazing. All of the most senior male Riders are getting married. It makes me wonder about Hanin. Did you know him well in Ellesméra?"

"Yes," Arya answered. "Well enough, that is. There are relatively few elves compared to the other races, and we all live so long that we eventually come to know one another. So many were killed in the final battle at Urû'baen, what with the way Galbatorix had meddled with magic, which tragedy reduced our numbers even further. Hanin fought, of course. He is a very good man."

"I agree," Willow said. "And he is so different from the other elves on the Isle. He has always been very kind to me. Not that the others haven't been, Hanin is just friendly and warm. But he has never let on that he's lonely. Do you suppose he wants to find a companion?"

"I don't know," Arya said. "Many elves choose to pursue a solitary existence. As such an accepted standard for our people, no one thinks anything of it. Comparatively few elves find mates. For the other races, marrying and establishing a family are the highest good one can accomplish. I now understand why. I don't know that I was ever truly happy when I was alone. Of course, most of my life was spent as ambassador to the Varden, which was a dangerous position. Anyway, it could be that Hanin is desirous to find a mate, especially given the influence the other Riders have no doubt had on him. He _is_ quite different from many elves, and I'm sure that can be attributed to his time on the Isle."

"I wonder if the egg has yet hatched," Willow mused. "Hanin probably arrived in Ellesméra around the same time we did in Tronjheim, which means it has been nearly two weeks. That's about how long the Choosing Ceremony lasted before Sunset hatched for me. I hope he remembers to scry us. I've been carrying around the enchanted, handheld mirror he knows to contact. Too bad we can't simply scry him and ask. That was always a frustration for Eragon and Murtagh. I know they could have simply bypassed the wards surrounding Du Weldenvarden using the name of the ancient language, but they never wanted to intrude on the barriers the elves had so intentionally and carefully set up."

"What was it like for the rest of you whenever I would scry each spring?" Arya curiously asked. "By the end, I found myself increasingly disappointed that I never got to speak with Eragon, and I often wondered why. It seems so silly to me now as I think about it in retrospect. It took me so long to admit that I love him, but I must have begun feeling that way years ago."

"I understand perfectly," Willow said. "It was extremely hard for Eragon. It got to the point that he would simply leave. He and Murtagh or Hanin would speak at length about whatever it was they needed to discuss with you, and then he would leave with Saphira for the lake. Things have been running so smoothly for the Riders in the past several years that Eragon could often be spared. Whenever he could, he was at the lake. It was heartbreaking. None but Murtagh knew the true scope of Eragon's pain, but we all were aware of it to some degree. I'm so glad he's happy now."

"As am I," Arya agreed. "I have never been happier in my life. Eragon is the kindest, most devoted husband. Having experienced what it's like to be married to him, I don't know how I thought I would be content to remain away and alone forevermore. I never could have imagined how amazing it feels to allow myself to need someone. Before, I would have mocked myself for what I would have considered a weakness. But now I feel so much stronger being with him. And safer. And warmer. It is indescribable to feel so trusting and safe with someone who has seen me at my most vulnerable and still adores me in spite of all of my flaws. Sharing that level of intimacy is beautiful and powerful."

"I can imagine," Willow said. "I'm so happy for both of you."

"Thank you, Willow." After a moment Arya asked with mild awkwardness, "So are you nervous about _that?_ I mean, the physical intimacy aspect of your union."

Willow smiled but didn't seem at all embarrassed. "No, not even that. Why?" she teasingly wondered. "Should I be?"

"No!" Arya cried. "It's perfectly delightful!"

Willow laughed. "That's what I thought. I'm looking forward to it. Varhog is so powerful and well, just huge. There's really no other way to put it, but it does create a certain appeal. He'll just need to be careful."

"Yes, that's what I was getting at," Arya said, grateful Willow had caught her meaning. "He could kill you with an accidental squeeze of his hand. Eragon has always had to be mindful of it, and he isn't nearly as strong as Varhog. We are strong, Willow, but these male Riders are almost too strong for their own good, thanks to the strength of their dragons." She then added, "What of his body? Doesn't he have prickly bristles all over him? That might be problematic."

Willow laughed. "Yes, he does. I saw them once. We have discussed that potential obstacle. He thought we might be able to overcome it with magic. Would you be able to help me think of a spell to modify them enough that they won't bother me?"

Arya considered it thoughtfully. "Yes, I'm sure I could. What are they like?"

Willow stopped in front of an exotic looking flower with black and yellow blossoms growing from long, gray stems. The stems were covered in short, sharp thorns that stuck straight out. Unlike a rose thorn that tapered from a wide base to its thin point, these thorns were evenly thin, like sharp wires.

"This is actually remarkably representative," Willow said, pointing at the thorns. She then laughed. "Even the coloring. This flower could be called 'Urgralgra' and be perfectly accurate. Look at the gray stems and the black and yellow blooms. Black for his hair, yellow for his eyes, gray for his skin, and covered in sharp, wiry bristles. I'm going to bring Varhog here and show him this. How funny!"

Arya laughed too. She had never seen the flower before. She and Willow knelt down in front of the plant. As Arya made a silent examination of the flower stem, Willow said, "I wouldn't want to change his bristles too much or try to make them like human hair. I want him to still seem like an Urgal, just without the ability to rub me raw."

Arya nodded her understanding as she raised her left hand and murmured a phrase in the ancient language, one which directed the thorns to lie flat against the stem while also curling under and softening slightly at the ends. Her gedwёy ignasia glowed as the magic flowed forth, and the thorns did just as she bid them—lying flat, growing fine at the ends, and subtly curling under.

"What do you think?" Arya asked, running her hand up and down the stem and coming away with nary a scratch. Willow imitated her movement over the modified thorns and seemed satisfied.

"I think it will work," Willow said. "I like that you made them curl under just a bit. Then no matter which direction I move against them, they won't catch on my skin. I suppose we could always just make my hide thick like his and then there would be no need to change him. It's funny how he calls it a hide, don't you think? Like he's always trying to point out the parts of him that are like an animal to make sure I know what I'm getting myself into." She laughed. "I'll ask Varhog if he prefers that I change my skin. But will you teach me, in case he doesn't?"

Arya repeated the words so Willow could memorize them. Then Willow practiced on a neighboring stem. When she had it perfected, Arya said, "Eragon suggested that I might share something with you. Something he thought you would appreciate knowing."

Willow looked interested and curious. "Very well."

"But before I do, I will preface it with a brief explanation so you know why I was telling Eragon this in the first place."

Willow nodded, and Arya proceeded to share the difficult impasse she and Eragon encountered when they didn't know whether they would ever have children. She then continued, "The elves make it a point to study and understand the anatomy and physiology of all living creatures, and in the many millennia we have, we have learned that the form and function of all sentient, two-legged mammals—Urgals, dwarves, humans, and elves—are nearly identical. I have taught Eragon other things since I conceived, but he thought you would appreciate knowing more about how the female body works and why. He mentioned that when your body began changing you had no one to turn to and were alone to figure out how to deal with it."

"Yes, that's true," Willow verified. "I didn't have anyone to turn to who knew what was going on. At least, no one who had personally experienced it. I now know that the elves could have enlightened me, though none of the females had ever undergone the changes themselves. I was much older than most human girls are when such changes first begin. I soon learned something of it from the Eldunarí, but much of my current understanding is based on my observations of myself and of mammals in the wild during my meditation. I would be glad to hear anything you think might be helpful."

"What do you already know?" Arya asked. "I wouldn't want to be redundant."

"I know that on an almost monthly basis, I will bleed for several days. Starting a few days after the end of the bleeding, a different fluid comes. It ranges from sticky and dry-looking to very slippery and stretchy, always in that order. After a few days of the slippery fluid, it all goes away. For a couple weeks I have very little fluid at all. I'm usually aware of when the bleeding will start since I feel some activity within that area of my body, sometimes accompanied by some achiness and a slight increase in the creamier fluid. I also just count the days, since it seems very predictable and cyclical. From my observations of other mammals, I have guessed that it all has something to do with my fertility, but if it does, I don't know how and why. Am I even close?"

"Yes, that's exactly right," Arya said, impressed. "I may not even need to elaborate, so great is your comprehension. Do you have any questions?"

"Yes," Willow immediately said. "Why the bleeding? It's so inconvenient!"

Arya laughed. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. I have never had to experience that, and I guess if it happened month after month whether I wanted it to or not, I might feel the same. As an elf, however, if such a thing happened, I think I would rejoice at the sign that my body was preparing itself for pregnancy."

Willow looked surprised and confused, so Arya continued, "Let me explain some preliminary basics that will help you understand why the bleeding occurs. Each cycle, these changes are happening as your body prepares for a potential pregnancy. You most likely did not undergo the changes until a later age given the strenuous circumstances you were dealing with in your life at the time. Your body didn't feel ready to maintain a pregnancy so your womb remained still. Once you had grown enough and achieved a certain measure of peace, your body then felt you sufficiently ready and began the cycle you have observed in impressive detail.

"The body ripens the womb for pregnancy by nourishing it with extra blood. If a fertilized reproductive cell, or egg, implanted itself in the womb, there would need to be a ready supply of nutrients for it to begin its rapid growth into a baby. But when pregnancy does not occur, there is no need for the extra blood in the lining of the womb, and the body sheds it in the bleeding you experience each cycle. So it is simply a sign that you did not become pregnant when you were fertile. Then the cycles begins anew and the body prepares in the very same way, ensuring that there will always be a fresh nesting place for any potential fertilized egg. Does this make sense?"

Willow nodded in attentive fascination. She then asked, "What does the other fluid mean?"

Arya answered, "That fluid is produced by what is known as the cervix, which is the opening of your uterus. It signals increasing fertility as the time for ovulation approaches. Ovulation is the moment an egg is released by one of the woman's ovaries. The most fertile fluid appears right before ovulation, and its purpose is to give the male reproductive cells, which are called sperm, a chance to survive within the woman's body so one can achieve its goal of fertilizing the egg.

"The cervical fluid is analogous to the male's semen—his reproductive fluid—which is released into his partner's body during intercourse. The woman is thought to be fertile all of the days her cervix makes this slippery fluid because it is a medium in which her partner's sperm can survive for several days. So an intimate relation on any of those days may result in a fertilized egg and therefore a pregnancy, though if the relation occurs on the first day with slippery fluid, the egg itself may not appear until a few days later at the time of ovulation. Am I confusing you?"

"No! How intriguing! To think that every month, roughly, _that_ is what's going on in my body. It's empowering to know and humbling, considering I'm about to get married. I suppose I could find myself pregnant within a matter of weeks if I could conceive with an Urgal. Do you think that could happen? You said the elves learned that the anatomy of Urgals, dwarves, elves, and humans was strikingly similar."

Arya nodded. "I would guess that is very possible, Willow. Eragon and I despaired we might never become parents in our union because of the infertility of my race. But despite that concern, we immediately did conceive. And since we did, it proves that our reproductive cells—my egg and his sperm—were indeed compatible, which was another uncertainty. Since infertility is not a widespread problem in your race or Varhog's, I see no reason why you wouldn't be able to become pregnant. Does that worry you? You are so much younger than I. Have you had time to consider whether you are ready to become a mother?"

"I don't know that anyone can ever fully prepare beforehand for the responsibility of being a parent, but among our races, Varhog and I are at the ages when such a thing would be natural. I dearly want to be a mother, and I know Varhog wants to be a sire, as they call it. Seeing him as a father would be delightful. And with you around to help me understand everything and be an example. . . . Yes, I would be thrilled."

For the first time, Arya realized that what Willow said was true. If Willow and Varhog conceived a child as easily as she and Eragon had, then their babies would be born within months of each other and she and Willow would be able to raise their children together. The thought filled her with such happiness that she unexpectedly reached out and gave Willow a joyful hug, which Willow returned.

"That would be wonderful," Arya whispered.

Willow hesitantly asked, "May I try to reach your baby? With my mind? I'm so curious."

"Of course!" Arya immediately agreed, grabbing one of Willow's hands and pressing it over her womb. "Focus right here."

Willow closed her eyes, and Arya felt her mentally reaching toward the indicated area. Willow gasped as she found the blaze of vibrant energy inside Arya's body.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Its heart is so strong and so fast! Already its body and mind are forming. That's so amazing!" Tears spilled onto Willow's cheeks in her awe. "I can feel how it gains everything it needs from your body. You are giving life to your baby every moment. How exquisite!" She opened her eyes and gazed at Arya in wonder.

"Thank you for sharing that with me. I know it's so personal, something meant for you and Eragon alone, but thank you. I suddenly feel an intense desire to experience that myself, to know that I'm giving life to a new being with my own creative power."

"It is the most miraculous thing I have ever experienced," Arya fervently confirmed. "It is both humbling and empowering, as you said, that our bodies are capable of such a feat without our conscious effort. I observe my baby almost constantly, as you just did, but I'm so excited for the time when it will be big enough for me to feel it move and for when Eragon can too. I hope we do get to be new mothers together, Willow. I always wanted to have a sister. Now it feels like I do."

Willow nodded blissfully. "Yes, I feel exactly the same. And Nasuada might also be a mother too, though I suppose we wouldn't be as often with her as with one another. I will miss Murtagh on the Isle. I have known him the longest out of the Riders, and he has always felt more like a brother to me than any of them. We will have to visit often so the cousins can know each other."

-:-:-

At that moment, they were both surprised to hear Hanin's voice coming from the direction of Willow's pocket. Willow started slightly before realizing what was happening and laughing at herself. She retrieved the small mirror from her pocket and held it up.

"Hanin!" she exclaimed. "We were wondering only a moment ago if we might soon hear from you!"

"Have I caught you at a bad time?" Hanin wondered with a teasing grin.

"No, brother!" Willow reassured. "Arya and I are in the royal gardens in Ilirea. We made a brief detour here so we could see the high queen sooner, and Murtagh proposed on a whim. They were married yesterday, and here we are today."

"Murtagh is married?" Hanin cried. "How fantastic! And you next, then? Well, I really do need to get serious if I am to keep up with all of my comrades. Is there any water nearby so we can transfer the spell to a larger surface?"

"Yes, there's a lovely little pond right here," Willow replied. She and Arya stood, moving over next to the small pool. They knelt once again, and Willow murmured the words that would move Hanin's scrying spell from the mirror to the water.

When he could see both of the women, Hanin said, "Ah, there we are. Hello, Arya."

"Hello, Hanin," Arya echoed. "So has the dragon hatched?"

"Indeed, Your . . . do I still call you 'Your Majesty'? I suppose not. How about 'sister'? It may take some time before it feels as natural as with Willow, but we will get there. Do you object?"

"No indeed, brother," Arya returned, smiling.

"Wonderful," Hanin said. "And yes, the dragon egg hatched earlier this morning. I have the new Rider here with me, if you would like to meet her."

"Her!" Willow repeated. "I knew it! Another elven sister! Who would have thought that I would someday have two elven sisters? But nothing makes me happier, for my first elven sister is already one of my favorite people in the world." She gave Arya a bright smile, which Arya reciprocated. "Yes, Hanin! We want to meet her!"

After only a second, a stunningly beautiful female elf appeared next to Hanin on the surface of the pond. Though Hanin tried to hide it, his countenance changed ever so slightly as he turned toward the woman and formally said, "Maehrí, it is my pleasure to introduce you to my two favorite females in all of Alagaёsia, aside from my mother, of course. Here are the other two female Dragon Riders. Arya of Ellerméra, whom you undoubtedly know at the former queen, and Willow of Feinster. Arya, Willow, this is the newest Dragon Rider, Maehrí of Sílthrim."

Willow and Arya simultaneously began the customary greeting of the elves then laughed together that they had and carried on anyway. Maehrí clearly wasn't sure what to make of their carefree manner. She performed her part of the exchange, and Arya and Willow finished it in unison.

Once the formalities were out of the way, Willow excitedly cried, "Maehrí! It is so wonderful to meet you! Congratulations on becoming a Dragon Rider. I'm so glad we have another female in our ranks! You can't imagine how it has been for me the past seven years—except for the last month—being the only female Dragon Rider on the Isle! We needed you so desperately, and now here you are! How do you feel?"

Maehrí glanced uncertainly at Hanin, who gave her an encouraging smile. She said, "I feel overwhelmed and very honored. It is lovely to meet you, Willow. Hanin has already mentioned you. I am excited for the chance to get to know you better."

"Why thank you!" Willow said. "Only believe the good things Hanin says about me." She giggled, adding, "I'm only teasing."

Maehrí looked confused again, so Willow quickly apologized, "Oh! Forgive me! I suppose it takes some time to get used to my silly personality. Well, do you have your dragon with you?"

Maehrí held up the tiny silver creature, who turned his wide, sky-blue eyes toward the mirror he was being held in front of. Arya and Willow crowed together.

"He's so tiny!" Arya cried. "I can't believe Fírnen was once small enough to fit in my hands. It's so hard to remember once they are bigger than a house! They grow so, _so_ quickly, Maehrí. Make sure you enjoy every moment with that precious little hatchling."

"I will, Your Majesty," Maehrí dutifully promised. Then she remembered. "Oh, I mean . . . uh . . . ? Do I call you Arya?"

"You most certainly may," Arya kindly invited. "It _is_ my name." She laughed, and Maehrí smiled timidly.

"Isn't that remarkable that your coloring is so like your dragon's," Willow observed. "You both have that sparkling silver in your hair and scales respectively, and the same pale blue eyes. How stunning." Willow's gaze flitted to Hanin, who was attempting to appear casual as he studied Maehrí from the corner of his eye. When he noticed Willow's scrutiny, he abandoned his admiring. Willow grinned meaningfully and looked over at Arya to see if she had noticed. She had, and she too smiled knowingly at Hanin.

Hanin cleared his throat, which startled Maehrí, who hadn't noticed the same thing as the other two females since she was standing beside Hanin. Arya and Willow laughed, and Hanin rolled his eyes in self-directed exasperation, shaking his head to communicate his desire that Arya and Willow keep their observations to themselves.

Willow laughed even louder. "Hanin, thank you for scrying us! We will be sure to tell the others. We're not certain of our plans from here. I mean, we know we'll next be going to Varhog's village, but I'm not sure when that will happen or how long we will stay. Scry us again in a couple of weeks to see if we have yet decided where to go after. But you had best contact Eragon, because hopefully I _will_ be on my honeymoon by then." She turned to Arya. "During what time of day is Hanin least likely to interrupt your _alone time_ with your dashing husband?"

Arya laughed, and was again joined by Willow when they noticed Maehrí's shocked expression and deep blush. Hanin bit his lip to keep himself from also laughing at Maehrí's reaction.

Arya quickly said, "Midmorning might be your best bet, Hanin, though I really can't make any guarantees. If no one else is around, that's always the first thing on my mind, no matter what time of day it is."

Hanin couldn't help but chuckle as he said, "I will be sure to remember. Midmorning, two weeks from today, contact Eragon. It has been a pleasure as always, Willow. I miss you, sister. And you too, Arya."

Arya nodded, and Willow said, "I miss you too, Hanin. But neither of us will be lonely, now will we?" She winked then airily added, "Good luck, Maehrí! It was wonderful meeting you! I look forward to the time we can meet in person! Have fun, brother." She suggestively exaggerated her last words, knowing Hanin would understand. He grinned again, bidding them farewell before ending his spell.

Willow and Arya looked at each other and burst out laughing at the same moment. "He _likes_ her!" Willow cried. "Already!"

"So it would appear. And can you blame him? She is gorgeous."

"But that wouldn't be the only important thing to Hanin. She seemed very sweet and timid. I give him six months, if that. He doesn't stand a chance."

"You're probably right," Arya agreed. "They will be together every day for the next many months. If she is half as intelligent and kind as she is beautiful, then he will most likely fall hard."

"As will she," Willow confidently predicted. "Hanin is impossibly handsome. On top of that, he is everything else a man should be, just like all of the Riders."

"Did _you_ ever fancy him?" Arya wondered. "You speak very highly of him."

"I speak highly of him because that's how I see him. But no, I never fancied him. I suppose the fact that he is nearly sixty years older than I seemed daunting at first. Perhaps you can relate to that, though in reverse. By the time Hanin came to the Isle, Varhog and I were such good friends that we spent nearly all of our time together. And as an elf, Hanin was the most advanced in his training of any of us. He was better with magic and fighting, and the ancient language is his native tongue, so he fell in more with the elves at first."

"When did that change?"

"It was gradual," Willow responded. "Since none of the other elves had dragons, Hanin automatically had to spend more time with us Riders when we did flying training. Vera became close with Sunset and Saphira. Saphira was thrilled when Sunset showed up. She was the first female dragon to hatch for a Rider after Saphira herself so they developed an immediate friendship and sisterhood. It was the same with Vera. Since Vera wanted to be with those other two, Hanin naturally started spending more time with me and Varhog. He helped me a lot with swordsmanship and magic. That's when I started training more earnestly with Blödhgarm to learn healing magic, since Hanin noticed my affinity for it and knew Blödhgarm was the most skilled healer of all the elves."

"Blödhgarm told me how accomplished you have become," Arya remarked. "He said you have a natural gift, thanks to your love for living creatures and your ability to communicate so well with those who are different from you. He thinks that helps you direct the healing in an innate way, whether you understand every particular about how cells should knit together or not. He believes that you are now more talented than I at healing."

"Really?" Willow cried. "He said that? I'm humbled. Perhaps I took such a liking to it because I realized that if I had only known magical healing a few years earlier, I could have saved those dearest to me from premature, painful deaths. If it is within my power, I will do all I can to keep innocent creatures from pain or death before their time."

"Willow, I'm so grateful to know you," Arya said. "I am surprised to admit it, but it really does feel like we are sisters. I have never felt such an immediate bond with someone, unless you count Fírnen, and that was magical."

Willow hugged her. "Thank you, Arya. That means the world to me. Even before I was a Rider, I longed for a sister. And after, I think the wish became almost desperate. All those men! I love them dearly, but we needed you there for so many reasons."

They stood and resumed their walk, arm in arm once again. They spoke of silly, whimsical, girlish things, giggling uncontrollably at times, just as one would expect of two sisters. When their significant others did not soon return, the two women made their way to the palace and asked around until they arrived in the kitchens. It only took a few smiles and words of appreciation for them to win a whole basketful of delicious food from the cooks. They retraced their steps back to the gardens and were then joined by Eragon and Varhog. The two couples picnicked on the grounds, each recounting their adventures of the day.

When they finished the meal, Willow stood and reached down for Varhog's hand. "Yelloweyes, will you come with me a moment? There's something I'd like to show you."

"Of course, Eartheyes," Varhog agreed, easily standing without her assistance, though he took her hand all the same.

"We will clean up here and take these dishes back to the kitchen," Arya offered. "Thank you for a wonderful morning, Willow."

"The pleasure was mine, sister," Willow replied with a happy smile. "I suppose we will meet you later for dinner." Arya nodded, remaining on the ground by Eragon's side.

Willow guided Varhog away from their friends toward the flower gardens. As they walked, she said, "Your meeting with Jeod sounded delightful! I'm glad you were able to spend some time with him."

"Yes, it was very enlightening," Varhog said. "Where are we going?"

"Here," Willow said, stopping in front of the exotic plant she and Arya had modified earlier that morning. "I wanted to show you these flowers. Have you ever seen them before?"

Varhog squatted to get a closer look. "No, Eartheyes. They're pretty in an odd sort of way."

Willow knelt beside him. "I thought they could be called Urgralgra because of their coloring and other features."

Varhog chuckled. "So they could. This one looks different." He reached up and ran his hand along one of the stems Arya and Willow had changed.

"Yes!" Willow cried. "Arya helped me come up with a spell to modify your bristles, and we practiced on these stems because of how closely they seemed to resemble your hide. But I have something to ask you. I thought it would be just as effective to make my own skin tougher. It doesn't seem fair to expect you to change for me, if I'm not prepared to reciprocate. I'm willing to be the one who changes so we will be compatible. What do you prefer?"

Varhog remained silent for a long while, staring at the flowers in front of them. Willow studied his profile, trying to understand what he might be thinking. She recognized his impassive expression as the façade he usually adapted to hide what he was really feeling, but he didn't make her guess much longer.

In a halting voice he finally replied, "You would change for me, Eartheyes?"

"Of course, my lo—" She stopped, smiling. "I was about to call you my love, Varhog. Isn't that interesting?"

Varhog glanced over at her. "You could say that," he allowed with a small smile, "though I might not use the word interesting." Then he put his arm around her and pulled her against him. With her face resting next to his chest, Willow heard the deep rumbling of his voice as he quietly said, "You're so amazing, Willow."

Willow's stomach fluttered nervously with the increasingly familiar feeling of longing she had been experiencing around Varhog. "Thank you, Varhog. Perhaps even more interesting than the fact that I nearly referred to you as my love is that I have been feeling a repeated and unmistakable yearning for you. What do you make of that?"

Varhog shrugged, his amusement apparent in another deep-chested rumbling sound. "My instinct is that you are toying with me because the idea that you long for me as I long for you is ridiculous, but I know you aren't like that. You always speak the truth, which I love about you. It makes me hope we will soon fly for my village because if you are being honest, then I . . . it makes waiting harder."

"Why would it be any more ridiculous that I long for you than the other way around?" Willow demanded. "We have already established that the general feelings of each of our races toward one another are the same—revulsion, loathing, animosity. So is it any harder to imagine a human desiring an Urgal than it is to picture an Urgal desiring a human?"

Varhog was clearly at a loss. "I . . . I just never get accustomed to how accepting and unprejudiced you are," he said in amazement. "You're always able to see the other point of view, which is so uncommon but so beautiful. I'm still trying to get it through my very thick skull, literally, that you have accepted me."

Willow laughed at his joke and reached up to touch one of his horns, repeating the same action she had performed at their first meeting in a perfect demonstration of the acceptance he meant.

In return, Varhog did what he had done on their first day flying from the Isle, lifting one hand and touching her lips. He left his fingers there a moment before moving his hand to her face.

Willow closed her eyes in contented acceptance of his touch, leaning her cheek into his hand. "For an Urgal, you really seem quite romantic, especially since you don't know you are being that way."

"I keep thinking it will help me understand _why_ you are the way you are. You're so unique. I wish I could figure you out."

"You know you need never wonder, Varhog. All you need to do is ask, and I will answer as honestly as I always do."

"That wouldn't help," he insisted. "The very way you answer, always so honest and open and accepting, is precisely what makes you so unlike anyone I have ever met. But I'll try by repeating my question of earlier. Would you _really_ be willing to change yourself like that for me?"

"Of course, my love," Willow said again, this time letting the endearment roll off her tongue as felt natural. Then she paused, considering it for a moment.

"But now that I say it all the way, it feels too much like copying," Willow observed. "That's Eragon's special way of referring to Arya. But I _do_ want my own endearment for you, Yelloweyes. What shall it be?"

Varhog smiled. "Whatever feels natural to you, Eartheyes."

"How about sweetheart?" she suggested.

"If you wish. And thank you, Willow. That you are willing to change for me means more than I can possibly express, but I don't want you to. If Arya has come up with a way for you to modify my bristles enough that they won't hurt you, I prefer that. Then I will still feel myself and you will still be yourself. I love you just the way you are, in the same way that you somehow seem to love me as I am."

"That's what makes our love so special, Varhog. We're able to see the beauty of the other without letting our obvious differences come between us."

"You made it possible," he whispered. "I have never known a human—ever—to accept an Urgal as openly as you did me."

"Then I will be forever grateful that it is my nature to be open and accepting. See what I would have missed out on otherwise?" Varhog nodded. He seemed content to silently gaze at her face, so Willow playfully asked, "How about you, sweetheart? Are you going to come up with an endearment for me?"

"Eartheyes," Varhog immediately answered. "You will always be my Eartheyes. That nickname encompasses everything I love about you—because of how you teasingly first suggested it, because it represents your beautiful warm eyes that always communicate exactly what you think of me. Whenever I call you Eartheyes, remember that I'm calling you every endearment of which I am aware in the same breath."

Willow smiled blissfully. "Very well."

They remained where they were for another long while, speaking of this and that, until the shadows began to lengthen, whereupon they arose and made their way back to the palace to rejoin their friends for dinner.

-:-:-:-

* * *

 **A/N:** The next chapter contains some mature love fluff.


	9. Peace at Last

**9\. Peace at Last**

By midday, Nasuada and Murtagh were so hungry and thirsty that he insisted she call for something to remedy that.

They were lazily sprawled on her magnificent bed with their arms around one another. Nasuada was pressed against his side with her leg drawn up, her head on his shoulder, and her arm across his body. Murtagh marveled yet again at the beauty of her ebony skin, which made his seem so pale in comparison. Nasuada's thick dark hair cascaded all around them. She so often had it up that Murtagh hadn't realized how long it was. It reached past her waist, and he repeatedly ran his hand through it, memorizing the velvety, rumpled texture.

"Should we not just go and eat?" Nasuada worried. "Won't someone be missing us?"

"Of course they are missing us, my dear," Murtagh replied. "They know exactly what we have been up to all these hours and are either rejoicing in or envying our happiness. But they won't expect us to emerge until we are ready. Eragon and Arya were gone for a week and a half after their wedding."

"Really?" Nasuada exclaimed. Then she added, "But I can understand why. If I never again saw another person besides you, my husband, I would be the happiest woman alive."

She moved her hand from where it had been idly fingering his slightly pointed ear and wavy hair, trailing it toward his jaw and letting her thumb stroke the length of it before sliding it down the tendon in his neck. She traced along his shoulder out toward his arm then used one finger to draw a line back along his collarbone to the hollow at the base of his neck.

From here, Nasuada spread her fingers wide, pulling them as one around the bulge of his pectoral muscle and pressing into him with gloating appreciation. A smirk of fierce approval appeared on her face as she continued her examination down the length of his body, allowing her fingers to trace around each defined line of his musculature as if seeking their way out of a maze. He grunted as she ended her exploration well below his navel, letting her hand brush against the most sensitive area of his body. His arms automatically tightened around her in reaction to her unexpectedly arousing inspection.

"That felt . . . _nice,_ " Murtagh said in a tight voice.

Nasuada laughed—a deep, throaty sound—returning her eyes to his face as she said, "Yes, it did. You have a magnificent body." As she met his eyes, Murtagh saw the burning he felt reflected back at him. He grabbed her face and urgently kissed her, using one arm to pull her on top of him and satisfy the insistent demands her touch had provoked.

After a time—Murtagh wasn't sure how long since the minutes and hours seemed as one when he was lost in her love—he was able to relax again, and she lay contentedly on top him. He closed his eyes and breathed evenly, trying to slow the pounding of his heart.

Nasuada commented, "I like hearing your heart beat like that with my ear right next to it. It sounds so strong, like the rest of you."

Murtagh inhaled deeply. When he was finally able to speak, he said, "But I now understand why Eragon looked ten years younger when he and Arya finally did return. I never would have imagined that sharing my love with you like this would serve to relieve me of decades' worth of anger, hatred, pain, longing—everything. I have never felt so perfectly at ease or happy. Peaceful, even. Thorn doesn't know what to think. He hardly recognizes me."

"Has he often been in your mind this last while?" Nasuada wondered with an attempt at nonchalance.

"You needn't be embarrassed, my dear," Murtagh comforted. "He only delights in sharing my happiness. I have blocked him for much of the time, but he can still sense the general tone of my mind, and it is unlike he has ever known it to be, that's all."

"I am glad you are so recovered, Murtagh. You deserve this peace at last," Nasuada said. "We waited an unbearably long time for this. It might have killed a lesser man, or at least driven him mad."

"It came close to that, Nasuada. Very close. But you were not the reason. If anything, you were the reason I made it here with some semblance of sanity, if I can go so far as to say that." Murtagh smiled dryly.

She raised herself off his chest and drew her face closer to his, hunching her shoulders as she leaned toward him. A wave of her hair spilled over his shoulder. She had just begun kissing him when a bell rang lightly, indicating that their meal had arrived.

Murtagh groaned in disappointment, tightening his arms around her back to prevent her from rising. "Won't they just leave it?" he asked. "I can fetch it in . . . later."

Nasuada smiled, nodding slightly. "You were the one begging for food and drink. Have you now no need for repast, though you have not eased your hunger or thirst and surely only increased it?"

"You _are_ my repast, Nasuada," Murtagh growled. "Already I am hungry for you again."

Nasuada laughed. "Well then, I had best not deny your appetite, as voracious as it is." She resumed her kiss, and they once again joyfully tangled together in their physical expression of love.

-:-:-

Some hours later, after they had eaten and drank and dozed again on the bed, Nasuada reluctantly said, "I fear we must now make our reappearance."

"Why?" Murtagh demanded, nuzzling her neck and collarbone with his mouth.

"That tickles," Nasuada laughed.

"Good," Murtagh said. "Anything to distract you from that line of thinking."

She laughed again. "Because the longer we delay, the longer we deny another couple this same happiness, even Willow and Varhog. If we go now, we will arrive in time for dinner and can begin to make plans for visiting the Urgals."

"Spoken like a queen," Murtagh said with a regretful sigh. "Eragon will never let me live it down that my honeymoon was ten times shorter than his. Would you make me endure that, my wife?"

Nasuada laughed mischievously. "Who said this ends our honeymoon? Perhaps we will just have Thorn fly higher than all the rest so we can do whatever we want on our journeys. He must already be privy to the worst of it. We would only need to take care that our clothes didn't blow away in the process. Then it would really be no secret what we had been up to when we landed."

She laughed more loudly at the scandalized expression Murtagh felt cross his face, clearly delighted she had come up with a scenario even _he_ hadn't considered.

"I quite like the sound of that," he said with a sly grin. "I always _have_ admired your ingenuity and determination. Very well, my dear. With a prospect such as that to anticipate, I will relent and go with you now down to dinner, though I am sure to face the taunts of my dear younger brother."


	10. Transformed

**10\. Transformed**

When Nasuada and Murtagh casually strolled hand in hand into the queen's private dining chamber, where the other Riders, Angela, and Elva were all seated, all eyes turned to observe them.

Eragon almost laughed out loud at the transformation Murtagh had undergone. Even when he had first met his older brother over twelve years before, Murtagh hadn't seemed so young and carefree. His life had always been hard, painful, and full of dark emotions. Now he was a new man, resurrected by the love of the woman he had long desired. Nasuada also looked unlike Eragon had ever seen her. She was glowing with a deep inner joy, and her hair flowed around her shoulders and down her back in a thick, shining mane. She seemed completely at ease and confident.

But Eragon managed to maintain his composure and instead said, "Back so soon then, brother? I thought not to see you for at least another few days, especially since you can have food and drink brought to you at will."

Murtagh cast a sideways glance at Nasuada, raising one eyebrow meaningfully with a sardonic grin on his face. She giggled as if they were sharing some inside joke.

Eragon laughed then, not able to suppress it any longer. He guessed that Murtagh must have anticipated his ribbing and warned Nasuada it would happen. In truth, Eragon was so happy for his brother that he could have sung aloud at the top of his lungs. But he was sure the others wouldn't have appreciated such an expression, so he let himself be satisfied with the laugh.

"Truly," Murtagh wryly replied. "I would never have consented to returning so soon had Nasuada not proposed a most interesting compromise."

At this remark, though he couldn't be sure due to the deep color of her skin, Eragon thought Nasuada blushed. He was curious but could sense from Murtagh that he would not receive an explanation. Murtagh simply wanted to strike back.

"Nasuada, your hair is so beautiful!" Arya then complimented. "I had no idea it was so long!"

"Yes, it _is_ rather unruly," Nasuada agreed. "One reason I almost always keep it up." She pulled her hair around her shoulder so she could sit in the chair Murtagh pulled out for her.

Murtagh took his seat next to her and said, "Something I plan to fight as often as possible now that I have beheld its full magnificence." Everyone laughed as he slid his hand under her hair and pulled it around to her back, allowing it to cascade over his hand as he drew it back toward himself. "So I need some nourishment, which I'm sure comes as no surprise to the rest of you intelligent folk, knowing the kind of strenuous exercise I have been engaged in this past day. Would someone please pass me that bread?"

Eragon laughed again, and Varhog let out a deep bark of a laugh. Willow's face lit up in delight, though Arya looked slightly mortified, and Nasuada again seemed somewhat embarrassed. Angela clucked primly, but Elva smiled in a pure way, happy so be surrounded by such happiness.

Eragon had been surprised to see Elva a young lady when they had first arrived. Though he knew she was not much older in years than his niece, Ismira, she now appeared to be about sixteen due to the accelerated growth she had inflicted upon herself as a baby. He had learned from her that her time in the palace had, for the most part, been a blessed respite from the horrors of the war, which she had been forced to endure in such an intimate, magnified manner.

Before dinner, she had approached him and formally greeted, "Hail, Shadeslayer. It has been many years." Her unnerving voice was not quite so chilling now that she was somewhat grown.

But Eragon hadn't stood for such a manner. He surprised her by enfolding her in a tight hug. "What, are we not old friends?" he teased, knowing Elva most likely did not regard the one who had cursed her with her strange ability as a friend. "Whether we are or not, I am glad to see you, Elva. Has your time here been more peaceful these last ten years?"

It was then she had briefly told him of her life in the palace and that she often got to be outside in the gardens and surrounded by animals, whose serene peace had helped her overcome the deepest wounds she had been inflicted with. "I do hold you a friend, Eragon. As I told you all those years ago, I have forgiven you for what you unwittingly did to me. Now that I can control it, thanks also to you, I have come to view it as a gift and use it for the benefit of those closest to me whenever the need arises. Your blissful joy now is as a boon to my soul, as sorrowful as you always were before, particularly in regards to your feelings for your lovely wife. Congratulations, by the way. You both appear to be radiantly happy."

Eragon had only nodded, touched by her deeply personal and meaningful observations. He remembered sometimes observing Elva's disconcerting perception of his frustrated longing for Arya during the war, but he was grateful she had never let on at the time.

With her characteristic intuitiveness Elva then said, "Although I sense your deep sorrow at the unknown possibilities surrounding the birth of your child." Angela and Arya had listened keenly at this. "Do not despair, Shadeslayers," she continued, addressing them both. "No ill will come of that moment. None at all." Her expression had been sublime as she appeared to be captivated by some rapturous vision. But she had refused to elaborate despite Angela and Arya's much insistence.

All she further said was, "I wish I could be there for the birth."

Arya was deeply affected by her reassuring prediction. "Then you are welcome to be present, if it would mean so much to you," Arya had replied. "The birth of a child is the most beautiful moment imaginable, and you would feel no pain or sorrow from me to taint its perfection. I'm not sure where we will be when the time comes, but Murtagh has also expressed a desire to be present and so, by extension, I am sure Nasuada will be. Perhaps you could fly with them on Thorn to meet us."

Elva had nodded, her expression still beatific. "Thank you, Life Bringer."

Eragon's surprise at this new and unusual title had been as great as Arya's, for he had hinted at it only two nights before. Could it possibly have more meaning than the obvious reference to Arya's current pregnancy? They had no way of knowing, and Elva had yet again refused to explain herself.

But in spite of the mysterious nature of the exchange, it had left Eragon in the unaccountably high spirits he was now enjoying as Murtagh and Nasuada joined the meal.

This dinner was even more lighthearted than the one Eragon and Arya had first rejoined on the Isle after returning from their honeymoon. Everyone laughed heartily at Eragon and Murtagh's relentless banter, and Murtagh's obvious happiness served to make his usual dry wit all the more lively and engaging. Willow and Varhog were also more openly joyful, as they no longer had to wonder about the affection they felt.

Angela seemed her normal cheerful self, though she frequently cast exasperated looks at Elva. But Elva didn't appear to mind her frustration, so surpassing and complete was everyone else's satisfaction.

When everyone had finished eating and the liveliness momentarily abated, Nasuada said, "We do not wish to detain this party from their further travels. I will be accompanying my new husband as we journey to Varhog's village. When shall this be? We can leave as soon as you wish, Willow and Varhog."

"The sooner the better," Willow replied. "My experience with the marriages of my two elder brothers has only served to solidify my previous beliefs that it encompasses all that is good, right, and happy and brings two people more joy than anything else. If no one else protests, I would like to leave tomorrow."

No one objected, so with the promise that her joy would also soon be complete, Willow stood and excused herself, inviting Varhog to join her.

-:-:-:-


	11. The Courtship of Dragons

**11\. The Courtship of Dragons**

Willow made her way outside through the maze of corridors and open chambers with Varhog walking silently by her side.

When they reached the courtyard, Sunset was waiting for her. Willow went to her dragon and wrapped her arms around her face as Sunset lowered it in greeting. _I've missed you, Sunset! I'm sorry I have been so occupied with all that has been happening during this trip. I've missed flying on you!_

 _Sunshine, I hold no hard feelings. Your happiness at the approach of your union with Varhog has sustained me in your absence. Would you now fly?_

 _Yes!_ Willow exclaimed. Just then she noticed—for how could she miss it?—that Black Thunder was landing, come at Varhog's bidding. Varhog's deep voice reached her once the loudest gusts had subsided.

"Shall we fly together on our own dragons, Eartheyes?" The beloved, reassuring sound of his voice created an unfamiliar fluttering in her stomach, one Willow had experienced on only a number of occasions before now, though it was occurring at increasingly frequent intervals. She quickly walked over to Varhog and took his hands. But that didn't feel like enough, so she slipped her arms around his waist, pulling herself against him and pressing her head into the impression where his powerful muscles met. Her ear was over his heart, and she heard it beat with a slow, steady rhythm.

Somehow she was able to sense Varhog's faint smile at her affectionate gesture, and he returned it by carefully enfolding her in his massive arms. She stayed that way for several minutes, breathing in his familiar, musky smell.

Varhog lowered his head enough to rest his chin on her head. "I love you, Willow," he whispered.

Willow now smiled and lifted her face. "Thank you, sweetheart. I love you too." She gazed into his handsome face, so close to her own, and added, "And I really want to kiss you."

Varhog nodded but placed one finger over her lips. "Not yet, Eartheyes," he warned. "Soon enough."

Willow released her hold on him to help herself resist the temptation and said, "I long to fly with Sunset. I've missed her so much! I never answered your question a second ago but now I will. Yes, I would _love_ to fly together on our own dragons! Maybe they can test their flying abilities against each other as we often test ourselves in our contests."

"Black Thunder likes that idea. He is mighty, but not as small and lithe. Sunset may outfly him yet." The huge black dragon gave his Rider a menacing look, and Varhog chuckled. "Though he doesn't like hearing me say it."

Willow laughed. "Which reminds me. I wondered if we could also practice again, since I will most likely be expected to show your people that I can defeat you. When you warned me you would fight differently, it made me begin to worry that I would be unprepared. I think despite your constant reassurances, you really have gone easy on me all these years."

"No, Eartheyes," Varhog disagreed. "I always spoke honestly. An Urgal ram's pride would not allow him to go easy on anyone in a fight, especially the woman he loves."

Willow laughed again and satisfied the resurgent desire to kiss him by lifting his hand and quickly kissing the back of it.

Willow ran over to Sunset and sprang up her leg to her back. She leaned down, hugging her around the neck. _Sorry_ , she thought. _He distracts me too easily. Can you believe I'm in love with an Urgal! It's exhilarating!_

Her dragon's thoughts were warm. _Sunshine, I wish you all the happiness with him. He is just sincere and honest enough that I think he might be the only one worthy of you. You are no common person. You will change the fates of races. Now shall we show that black monstrosity what it means to fly?_ Her tone by the end was teasing but determined, just as Willow often was.

 _Yes!_ Willow strapped her arms and legs into the loops meant to keep her safe during the acrobatic maneuvers Sunset was about to engage in and saw Varhog doing the same. She gave him an excited smile, and he returned it with a tight grin.

 _Ready!_ she shouted, and Sunset leaped for the sky a split second before Black Thunder. Sunset's leap did not take her as high, but she gained altitude more quickly because of her smaller size. She roared her challenge to the black dragon, and his answering roar was so deep and powerful that Willow laughed at how like Varhog it was.

Sunset darted under Black Thunder, twisting evasively as he tried to close his claws around her. She used the momentum of her spin to arch up over him, and he wrenched his head up to snap at her. His neck was long and powerful, and Willow saw one of his black eyes flash dangerously as Sunset used the tip of her tail to smack across his snout in a daring move that almost got her bitten. Almost. But Sunset again whipped to the side, skimming her wing down his back to make her tight turn possible.

She flapped quickly to put some distance between them, but Black Thunder was on her again with a few mighty beats of his wings. He sought to smash into her from the side, but just at the last moment, Sunset dropped right under him and snaked her head down to snap at his foreleg as he lost his bearings, making contact and drawing blood. Black Thunder snarled his rage, darkening the sky with a jet of black flames.

Sunset's own stream of brilliant pink-orange fire was triumphant, and it lit up the night sky. Willow caught a brief glimpse of Varhog's face and thought she recognized the expression of exhilaration as the one she must be wearing. Nothing compared to flying on a dragon like this.

Black Thunder didn't give Sunset long to enjoy her brief victory. He lunged toward her again, and Sunset commenced a dizzying series of spirals and loops. Willow kept her head pressed tightly to the side.

 _He cannot catch me, sunshine!_ her dragon exulted.

 _You're showing off now, aren't you?_ Willow realized with a laugh. _You must find him striking as I do his Rider. Take care that your theatrics do not make you reckless. Black Thunder is not a force to be reckoned with. If he catches you with those jaws or claws, you won't appreciate it._

At that moment, Sunset darted quickly to the left, ending her evasion with a swirling flourish, complete with what Willow would have sworn was a flirtatious flick of her tail. She laughed again.

 _You would not begrudge me for wishing to appear my best before a magnificent male of my own species, would you, sunshine?_

 _Not at all, Sunset! You are magnificent in your own right. I'm sure if he never realized before now, Black Thunder will never doubt it again._

Black Thunder bellowed again as Sunset twisted away from him, using her tail to hook around his own and yank him slightly off kilter. The black fire that roared from his maw streaked in their direction, and Willow quickly cast several wards to keep them from being incinerated.

 _He loses patience, doesn't he?_ she said in amusement.

 _So it seems, sunshine,_ Sunset mildly replied, though the tone of her mind betrayed her fierce pleasure at the contest. _I have had to fly so carefully all these weeks with Angela and Solembum._ This _is what it feels like to_ really _fly._ She swerved sharply toward the ground as Black Thunder snapped at her flank. Her swerve evolved into a steep dive to increase the distance between them. Willow knew Sunset could sense the black dragon bearing down on her, gaining speed with his massive bulk, so she suddenly jerked to one side and rolled away from him. She ended up pointing back toward the sky, flapping swiftly to regain altitude as Black Thunder struggled to counter the momentum of his downward plummet.

Sunset released a playful plume of sparks in a gesture that reminded Willow strikingly of a giggle, if a dragon could do such a thing. Her dragon was teasing her opponent. She flapped higher and higher, but Willow could see back over her shoulder that Black Thunder had not given up. He was closing the gap between them with strong strokes of his wings.

 _What do you intend to do now, oh mighty dragoness?_ Willow playfully thought.

 _Whatever seems natural, small two-legs-round-ears,_ her dragon returned with equal teasing.

 _Not as round as they once were, are they?_ Willow rejoined. Sunset rumbled her amusement.

Black Thunder surged up with his most powerful stroke yet and lunged for Sunset's tail. Willow watched over her shoulder as Sunset waited until the moment before his jaws snapped shut. Then she flicked her tail just out of reach, using it to smack the tip of his closed snout before arching into a graceful dive that took her directly in front of Black Thunder's belly, just out of reach of his deadly claws. Sunset folded her wings and plummeted toward the earth at breakneck speed, twirling in a dizzying spiral that left Willow feeling sick. When the dragon was only several hundred yards from the ground, she spread her wings and swooped around in a loose loop.

 _Do you submit yet, oh mighty king of the sky?_ Willow felt Sunset communicate to Black Thunder.

 _Your size and build allow you to outmaneuver me,_ came the ominous reply. _Let us see how you do in a contest of speed._

 _Very well,_ Sunset returned, quickly flying away in a straight line at her current altitude.

 _Are the acrobatics over for now?_ Willow asked.

 _Yes, sunshine_.

Willow loosened the straps that held her arms in place and sat upright, searching around for Black Thunder and Varhog. They were above and slightly behind her and Sunset, but gaining quickly. Sunset was flapping swiftly and determinedly, but she only maintained her lead for a matter of moments. Black Thunder soon swept past her and only continued to put distance between them with every beat of his huge wings.

When it was clear that Sunset had no hope of catching him, the black dragon slowed his pace until she fell in next to him.

 _We appear to be equally matched. You are the superior in close combat, but I have the advantage of speed and strength,_ Black Thunder admiringly rumbled.

 _So it seems,_ Sunset replied. _But I am only superior at close range by staying just_ out _of range. If you had caught me in your claws or jaw, I would have had no hope._

Willow laughed and said, _That is much the same as Varhog and myself! I would never be able to outdistance him, but I can duck and dodge away from him in close fighting. But if he ever caught me, it would be over in a heartbeat._

 _You flew spectacularly, Sunset,_ Varhog complimented. _I have never seen such techniques. I was worried Willow might be hurt on that last dive you performed. And your flames are breathtaking. It was like the sunset was once again gracing the sky. I'm sorry Black Thunder almost fried you to ash. He heard quite an earful from me for that._

Sunset proudly arched her neck at his praise. _Thank you, Varhog. My opinion of you as one worthy to match my Rider is only increasing with words such as those._

 _Shall we find somewhere to land so I can practice my skills against Varhog?_ Willow suggested. _Preferably somewhere with trees._

 _Why trees?_ Varhog asked.

 _I need to prepare for that eventuality,_ Willow replied.

 _I won't smash you into a tree,_ Varhog objected.

 _But what if I had to fight another Urgal?_ Willow insisted. _What if you actually_ did _feel to do that while fighting me? I should be prepared! Don't you agree?_

 _I suppose so,_ Varhog reluctantly allowed. _For some reason the thought of you having to fight another Urgal fills me with dread. I know you could beat them, especially since they would not have my abilities as a Rider. But still, if I were unconscious, I wouldn't be able to ensure your safety._ He shuddered, something Willow felt through his mind.

The dragons found a copse of trees on the far outskirts of the countryside surrounding Ilirea. They landed away from the trees, then Varhog and Willow dismounted and made their way into them. Willow glanced back at Sunset as she heard a deep whining yowl burst from her maw. She and Black Thunder were circling one another, their tails slapping the ground and their heads snaking toward and away from the other. Black Thunder lunged at her, but Sunset skirted away before leaping on his neck and snapping at the base of his skull. Black Thunder threw her off, arching his neck around to bite her flank.

"That's interesting," Willow commented. "It appears our dragons have decided to mate. Sunset never has before."

"Nor Black Thunder," Varhog said. "I always thought it strange with all the dragons on the Isle."

"Yes, so did I. Perhaps they have just now found someone they deem worthy."

"He _is_ insufferably proud," Varhog revealed. "You have no idea how it wounded his pride that he couldn't catch her."

"But it seemed to do more than that," Willow laughed. "She _was_ flirting most shamelessly. At least that's how it appeared to me. I don't know if dragons really flirt or not."

"He has admired her before," Varhog said.

"They seem to be like their Riders in more ways than one," Willow teased, taking Varhog's hand. She laughed at the tone of Sunset's thoughts, not embarrassed in the slightest. "They appear to be enjoying themselves. I suppose our union will be of a somewhat less tender nature, like theirs, though I might not take kindly to you biting me." She looked slyly toward Varhog, who, in spite of how familiar he was with Willow's bluntness, still appeared to feel awkward by her casual reference to their impending physical intimacy.

She laughed again at his self-conscious manner. "Come, Varhog. Are all Urgal rams this shy about mating? That awkwardness must be something you learned from your time among humans and elves, though we Riders discuss it openly enough on occasion."

Varhog grinned slightly. "No, I suppose not. Especially when only rams are about, from what I have heard, though I never stayed to participate before becoming a Dragon Rider. _That_ conversation might give even _you_ cause for embarrassment. But then again, maybe not. I can see you joining right in and bringing them all to shame." He laughed at the thought. "I never know what to expect from you, Willow. The one predictable thing about you is that whatever you say will be just what you think without reserve or hesitation. I wonder if I will ever encounter a situation where you wouldn't feel comfortable simply speaking your mind."

"If it was something unkind or inappropriate, I wouldn't," Willow insisted.

"True, but when have you ever thought something unkind or inappropriate? Never in the time I have known you. I suppose the only explanation is that you have a different definition of what is or isn't appropriate to be open about. Many people feel that speaking openly about physical intimacy is inappropriate or shameful, and therefore they don't. But you regard it as a perfectly normal, healthy part of life and so speak about it with ease. That's another thing I love about you. You don't let the widely held views of things determine your own opinion."

Willow smiled and pressed her arm into his as they walked. "Thank you, Yelloweyes."

Before long they arrived in a clearing in the trees, and Willow released his hand.


	12. Practice

**12\. Practice**

"Since our arrival in Ilirea a couple of days ago, I have been contemplating a few potential scenarios for this fight," Willow began. "I've always wondered why you never tried to smash me into a tree or break my arms or elbows with a crushing blow. It seems that would have worked to get me off your back. If I was expected to fight someone else, what if one of them thought to use such a tactic? I'm not sure I would still prevail."

Varhog appeared worried as he contemplated her question. "On the Isle, there weren't trees around in the training fields to have used, but it is potentially one way they will attempt to dislodge you. Trees are plentiful in my village. You could try lowering your legs just enough right at the last moment that your knees would be over their kidneys. If they strike into the tree and you brace yourself against it with the flat part of your feet, the force of the blow would drive your knees into them, possibly bringing about their defeat even faster.

"You have to remember that with the lack of air and blood flow, the strength of my muscles quickly diminishes, often in less than a minute. The increase in panic as my survival instinct takes over makes me desperate, but in all our previous fights, I have always known you would quickly release me once I fell to my knees. That same desperation in a Kull, however, would make him deadlier than ever. I'm not sure what I will do as unconsciousness threatens. If I or another tried to break your arms, which could truly happen, I don't know what to say. I have never done it before because, for one, in my determination not to hurt you, it never occurred to me. But I can't appear to show you any mercy. Additionally, I can't get my hands around your arms to crush them by squeezing, and a blow in the direction of my own throat seems unwise. It could do as much damage to me as to you. I want to help you prepare for every eventuality, but I'm not sure how, seeing that there could be many instinctive things I would try that I can't think of in my current state of mind."

"Which is exactly the purpose of this practice session," Willow firmly said. "To help me prepare so I can triumph. Tell me what the usual customs are. You mentioned that you would fight more like an Urgal than you ever before have."

Varhog filled his lungs and threw back his head, bellowing as loudly as he could until all the air was gone. The birds in the trees around them shrieked and took flight. Willow jumped in surprise then laughed, just as she predicted she would. When he was done, Varhog lowered his head in preparation to ram her, and she realized he was going to demonstrate what she should expect rather than explain.

Willow immediately cleared her mind and entered the emotionless mental state especially reserved for fighting. It was good she had practiced it so often and could assume it so quickly, for Varhog gave her no time to waste. She easily sidestepped his charge and spun about to face him, ducking as he swung an arm after her.

Varhog then instructed, "If you must fight me, do not delay. As soon as you can, jump on my back and bring me down. You must preserve your energy in case you face another opponent."

As directed, the next time Varhog lunged for her, Willow waited until the last possible instance before dodging with a twist and leaping on his back. She knew this was the critical moment. If she didn't get her arms immediately stacked on top of each other and cinched around his neck, Varhog would yank them free.

In expertly executed movements—thanks to her endless practice—Willow swiftly wrapped her arms all the way around his neck and tucked them into her armpits by twisting her wrists. She lowered her head to protect it and pulled her legs underneath her body, pushing with them against his back to increase the force of her grip.

Varhog roared in frustration, which was unwise because he couldn't refill his lungs. He reached for her, but his muscled arms and shoulders prevented him from grasping her on his wide back. In her mind he weakly said, _Keep holding on . . . until I pass out. We need . . . to see . . . what I do._

Willow focused her energy on the flame of his consciousness, not feeling alarmed as it flickered, as distant as she was from her emotions. Varhog fell to his knees, which was when she usually let go, but she obeyed him by maintaining and tightening her grip. His consciousness grew dimmer.

Varhog instinctively shuddered and began to convulse, rolling his shoulders in a desperate effort to remove her. He fell to his hands, rolling to the ground on his back and pinning her underneath him in his final attempt to loosen her stranglehold.

The air rushed out of Willow's lungs as his immense bulk flattened her, but she didn't panic. It helped some that her legs were between her chest and his back. She could sense how close Varhog was to going unconscious and was still able to maintain her grip, so she did. Three seconds later, his mind went black and she instantly removed her arms. Using magic to increase her strength, she wriggled out from under him and knelt by his side.

Willow wasn't sure what she should do or how long it would take Varhog to regain consciousness. She placed her hand on his forehead, worrying for him now that she was no longer in her fighting mind. That was the fastest she had ever bested him. It seemed impossible to her that it had almost been easy. How could _she_ best an enormous, powerful Urgal ram? It was so ridiculous that she laughed quietly.

Varhog had often told her that very things she perceived as weaknesses actually gave her the advantage, namely her thin frame and comparatively puny strength. Since his back was twice as broad as her body and his arms as thick with muscles as a slender tree trunk, he simply didn't have the physical ability to reach the middle of his back where she curled. And her arms were just thin enough that she could fit them neatly under his chin on top of each other. Eragon and Murtagh couldn't do that. They always had to put one in front of the other and no matter how tightly they tried to hold, Varhog could get his fingers around and pull the front one free to yank them from his back. Her human brothers had suffered many a dislocated shoulder or broken arm as a result. It was also more difficult for them to tuck their legs up since they were broader and more muscular, so Varhog could often reach one of their legs to pull.

And yet it was still so unlikely that Willow laughed again, thinking back over the fight as she knelt next to Varhog. At the end, he had pinned her, which had never before happened. He had been so close to unconsciousness that it hadn't mattered, but if he had done it earlier, it might have been enough to weaken her from breathlessness. And if there had been a rock under her or he had bashed her against the ground a few times, he could have broken many of her bones, which thought made her shudder.

Willow tried to imagine being expected to fight again right after. She felt sure she could take down another Urgal ram, especially since, as Varhog had said, the next opponent wouldn't have any Rider abilities and wouldn't know she could anticipate his moves as he made them.

But the thought of facing a Kull filled her with slightly more apprehension. The biggest problem would simply be reaching his back. Willow knew from Grintuk that male Kull were almost never under eight feet tall, which would make even the shortest Kull at least two feet taller than herself. She would have to find something to jump from, but would he give her enough time? If she fought anyone after Varhog—if she even had to fight _him_ —they would be prepared for her tactic and do all they could to keep her off their back.

Then there was the problem of a bigger head, stronger neck, and larger lungs. She would have to hold on longer and endure more savage attempts of being dislodged before she could hope to bring down a Kull. If her arms didn't fill the space between his chin and his collarbone, he would easily be able to remove them. But she supposed the even wider back and more powerfully muscled arms would make her perch between his shoulder blades all the safer, if she could get there. Was she really contemplating, in an objective manner, taking on a Kull?

 _You're ridiculous, Willow,_ she told herself, hoping it wouldn't come to that.

Varhog stirred then. He slowly sat up, raising his knees so he could rest his head on them.

"Are you all right, Yelloweyes?" Willow murmured.

Varhog grunted. "My head hurts but yes, I am."

"I'm sorry," she said and waited.

After a moment, Varhog lifted his head and turned toward her. "Don't be. You did well. That was fast. And humiliating, but I'm used to it." His smile looked more like a grimace, but she nonetheless returned it.

"I have been considering various possibilities while waiting for you to recover," Willow said. "When you pinned me, you were already so close to passing out that I was able to hold on, but if that had happened sooner, it might have been different. Most likely would have, actually. If someone saw you do that and got the idea in their head, they might use the tactic earlier on and break my ribs, back, or legs by crushing me against the ground."

Varhog surprised her by entering her mind and replaying the fight from his perspective. She was amazed by how strong her grip felt around his neck and by how quickly his body reacted to the lack of air and blood flow. She was dumbfounded by the immense brute force of his muscles but also by how quickly they weakened when denied vital nutrients.

"Do you see?" he insisted. "It happens so quickly. If you can just get on their back and assume your stranglehold, it will only be a matter of minutes, if that, and each one less powerful than the previous."

"Less powerful but more desperate, and therefore more dangerous," Willow pointed out. "Do you think this will really be expected of me, Varhog? Can we try letting them get to know me for a time to see if they'll accept me as you did? I will do this if it is required, but what if the cost is too high? What if I was crushed or killed while you were unconscious?"

"I wouldn't let it happen," Varhog growled. "I would tell Firesword, Arya, and Murtagh to interfere if it went that far. We will introduce you first and hope they come to accept you, but even if they did, you still cannot imagine their shock were I to then tell them that I plan to take you as my mate. No matter how much they like certain humans, they still would never think to let one of their most honored rams marry a human. It goes against too many prejudices that run too deep. And when you first defeated me was when my feelings began to deepen. That _was_ the turning point, and it no doubt will be for any Urgralgra. It's too powerful for an Urgal to overlook. The rest of my kind would feel the same."

"Must we even tell them? Perhaps we can just make this a visit for you to see them again. Then we can leave and enter our union on the Isle or elsewhere."

"We can do that, Eartheyes, and I am willing to, but I would bring dishonor to my clan and they might never accept me again. Despite the fact that I am a Dragon Rider, they might turn their backs on the other races of Alagaёsia. The old enmity that, though lessening, is even now still so strong might spring up again fierce as ever. They might feel I had somehow been tricked. There are too many dark possibilities to even name them all."

"If you are so certain this will be their reaction, are you sure this is even a good idea? Us? As difficult as it would be, wouldn't it be better to remain friends and not cause such terrible problems as we may well cause? Or suppose I did defeat three opponents and they still don't find me worthy to be your mate. What then?"

Varhog regarded her as he thought about everything she had suggested. "There is not an easy answer," he finally said. "I don't know what to expect. We can remain friends, we need not go. Any of these things is possible. What I _want_ is to have you as my mate and have their approval of it. But I don't need to have what I want if it's not the best way. I understand if this is too much to ask of you."

"No, Varhog," Willow quietly reassured. "I will do what is expected if it means I can be your wife. That's what I want too, so I suppose that leaves nothing for us to do but try."

They arose, and Varhog made as if to return to the dragons, but Willow grabbed his arm. "Varhog, I want you to try those other two possibilities I mentioned. Smashing me into a tree and breaking my arms. You can heal me if needed, but I need to know what to expect. Will you do this?"

Varhog hesitated as his desire to protect her warred with the sense of her words, a struggle she read in his eyes. "Very well, but I don't like it, Willow. Not at all."

They faced each other once again, and she jumped on his back even more quickly than before, right after his first charge. She assumed her stranglehold and before it could affect him, Varhog immediately struck a devastating blow against her arms. Her bones shattered, and Willow screamed in pain. But the force of the blow, which smashed her arms into his throat, also crushed his windpipe. Varhog collapsed on the spot, landing on his chest.

He jerked spasmodically, struggling in vain to fill his lungs. Willow didn't move because she couldn't with her broken arms pinned under his body, but since her hands were in the right general area, she muttered the words of healing in the ancient language, directing their energy toward Varhog's mangled throat. She squeezed her eyes shut to fight the tears while the energy required for the magic flowed out of her, leaving her even weaker.

As Varhog gulped in a great lungful of air, Willow lay still on his back. She somehow sensed his deep fear as he pulled one arm under himself and pushed himself up on it, supporting them both as he used the other hand to heal her arms. She whimpered in pain as the bones knit back together, but she resisted the urge to scream again.

When the job was done, Varhog slowly sat and pulled her around to cradle in his arms. Willow was trembling, and he gently held her, stroking his hand down her back over and over. They were both silent for a long while, each contemplating where they would be if not for magic. He would be dead, and she would be facing a slow, painful recovery that might never restore the full use of her arms.

When she could bear the silence no longer, Willow quietly said, "Now I know what to expect if that were to happen. What if a second foe tried it? Would I be allowed to heal my arms before facing a third? Would I be allowed to heal him so he wouldn't die?"

A great tremor ran through Varhog's body. "I . . ." he choked, "I'm so sorry, Willow. You have no idea how hard it was for me to do that." He wrapped his arms tightly around her as if somehow trying to make up for it by protecting her then. "It wasn't instinctive. I think my instinct to protect you is even stronger than my instinct for self-preservation, which is the main reason it wasn't natural to strike like that. But even if you were facing someone who didn't have the desire to protect you, he wouldn't feel to do that for fear of having the very same thing happen to him. A blow like that to the throat with nothing but a thin human arm for a barrier is enough to kill anyone, at least when struck by an Urgal ram and especially since it drove your arms into me. I don't think you will be likely to face that threat."

Willow nodded. "Very well. Let's practice the other scenario before we return."

Varhog made no move to rise or let her go when she attempted to stand. His arms were an inescapable prison. "I don't think I can," he whispered. "I can't hurt you again. And you are weakened from the magic."

"That's perfect because I would be tired if I had to face anyone else after you. Please, Varhog. You can heal me again if you need to."

"But your scream." Varhog shuddered. "I _hurt_ you. _I_ crushed your arms."

"Only because I asked you so you could help me," Willow tried to comfort. "And you healed the injury yourself."

"That doesn't make it any better. I can still hear your scream of pain echoing in my mind."

"Please, Yelloweyes," she whispered. "I need to be able to prove that I'm worthy to have you. If these things happened and I was defeated and could _never_ be with you . . . I don't know what I would do. The emotional pain would overwhelm me. It would be so much worse than any physical pain, which is so fleeting thanks to our abilities with magic."

"But you _are_ worthy to have me!" Varhog roared, making her jump. " _I_ should have to prove myself worthy of _you_. I'm angry, so angry that my people have these customs that would put you in danger to satisfy the demands of some ridiculous tradition. That prejudice and misconceptions will blind them and keep them from seeing what an amazing person you are once they learn I want you as my mate. Hatred and bias will keep them from accepting you as you accepted me. It makes me so furious that I want to fight them all myself so I don't have to worry about you coming to harm . . ." He trailed off, unable to articulate any more of his thoughts.

Willow was silent, startled by the vehemence in his voice. She shifted enough that she could wrap her arms around him, laying her face against his neck, where she noticed how much harder his pulse was pounding than it had been in the courtyard, elevated as it was by his fury.

"This _is_ what it will take for them to accept me, so it must be done. Do not be so hard on the ways of your race. Our union will assist our races in overcoming those prejudices and misconceptions. We must do this for each other and our peoples. Please help me ensure our success."

Varhog forced himself to breathe deeply to regain his composure. In a solemn voice he said, "I will do this one last thing, but never ask me to do something like this again, Willow." He paused before adding in a frightening tone, "And if any irreparable harm comes to you at the hand of any in my clan, they will answer to me and the ferocity of my revenge will be deadly."

He easily stood with her still in his arms and gently set her down. Then he backed up again to face her in the clearing, pulling off his shirt and tossing it to the side. He commanded in clipped tones, "Let your hair down. They will expect it. Having it up removes it as a weakness, which is unacceptable." He removed his boots, pants, and socks until he was in only his undergarments, which were just as he had described on the Isle—a short pair of shorts.

Willow had already assumed her emotionless fighting mind, so she indifferently observed Varhog unclothing himself, waiting expectantly for him to explain.

"We fight such contests in only a loin cloth, though the same will not be expected of you, just as it never is when female Urgals fight. Use your movements and dodges to keep me away from the trees so you will have time to weaken me as I try to reach one. Use the same tactic in the village, if it comes to that. This could kill you, Willow." Another great tremor ran through his body, but he released his pent up emotions in a roar louder and more terrifying than his first.

When he was done, he gave his last warning, "I'm going to open my mind to you once you are on my back so you will be more aware of what I'm going through and how long it takes for me to lose consciousness. Hold on again until I pass out." He had been circling, and she mirrored each of his steps to keep them the same distance apart.

At his first instruction, Willow had reached up and removed the pins that held her hair, tossing them aside with her focus always on him. While he yet spoke, she moved to a more central position in between the trees, preparing herself mentally for what she thought she would need to do to counter the tactic of being slammed into a tree. At the same time, she realized that having Varhog thus unclothed would help her even more. Each line of his powerful musculature rippled with the slightest movement, and she would be able to prepare for his attacks that much easier.

Willow felt Varhog change from a circling movement to a slow advance before he did, and she knew what she needed to do, as many times as she had done it before. She bent her knees in preparation to spring out of the way but otherwise remained deathly still. She watched him advance, knowing he would try to keep his intentions hidden from her until it was too late for her to react. She also knew he was observing her in an effort to understand which direction she would dodge. She feinted ever so slightly by bending one knee more than the other to give the impression she would go a certain way, but she knew he would expect that. They had fought so many times that they were intimately aware of each other's every technique and method.

To maintain her advantage, Willow had never revealed her secret of how she knew the right moment to dodge. She had to move or duck before he got within a certain range of her, one that encompassed both the length of his arms as well as how far they could reach due to the additional length of his body and legs. His reach was also affected by how much strength he put into his movements. If she moved a split second too late, he would trap her and it would be over. That had happened countless times in the early days of their sparring. Only endless practice had given her the expertise she currently had.

Her secret—the way she always knew which direction to dodge, even though he sought so diligently to anticipate and prevent her—was to watch which leg he sprang from when he finally moved in to attack. She could always see _that_ leg tense ever so slightly more in preparation for his attack and knew the opposite arm would be the one forward and closest to her.

Willow waited until that precise moment when she noticed his right leg bunch and hold slightly longer than on any of his previous steps. The flexing of the muscles extended all the way to his foot. This was her clue that Varhog was about to lunge for her, and as he began to execute the movement in his foot, she prepared, waiting until his lunge reached his hip, which removed his opportunity to adjust. When he had invested that much into his attack, he usually couldn't recover.

Willow always waited so long—just exactly the right amount of time—so Varhog would feel sure of his success, since completing his lunge from his hip out to his hand took less than a full second. But that was always when she spun away, as she did then, away from his nearest hand. He expected her dodge and swung his other arm out after her, but she knew he did in the same instant and ducked under, spinning on her heels in a low crouch. She put one hand on the ground to stop her spin and, from her crouched position, sprang with a determined shout all the way up to his back. It all took place in about three seconds.

Willow clamped her arms around his neck, pulling her legs under her as the natural conclusion of her leap. Varhog struggled to remain upright after his failed attack, since her extra weight on his back momentarily threatened his balance. He opened his mind to her as he righted himself so she could feel her stranglehold taking its toll. He staggered toward the nearest tree, each step requiring more effort than the previous as the demands of his muscles were not met with replenishment from blood and oxygen. He reached the tree and turned, choking sounds rumbling from his chest. Willow watched the tree behind her from the corner of her eye.

Black spots played across Varhog's vision through their mental connection. She could feel his desperation and the terrible burn in his muscles and lungs. His head pounded from lack of blood flow in and out of it, and his body wanted to sag forward as it always did at this moment, but he forced himself back toward the tree. Right before he made contact, Willow quickly slid her legs down and angled her calves downward, flexing her feet so they would hit the tree squarely and the force of his blow would drive her knees up.

Varhog's bash into the tree was weak because of how close he was to passing out, but Willow's adjustment was perfectly timed, and she intensified the strength of the blow by using her own muscles. Her knees drove directly into both of his kidneys at the same moment. She felt a surge of agony wash through him, then his flickering consciousness went black, and Willow gasped as she left her fighting mind. Varhog slumped against the ground with a sickening thud, and she rolled off to the side. She thought she heard a distant roar. Black Thunder. What had she done!

Willow crawled back to Varhog and placed her hands over his back, searching for signs of damage with her mind. She couldn't perceive any and so concluded he must have collapsed due to the pain of her blow to both of his kidneys along with his imminent blackout. At least, that was her conclusion before she moved her hands to find the beat of his heart and the blaze of light created by his mind. Panic built within her as she searched in vain for the energy indicating he was still alive.

 _Please!_ she desperately thought. _Where is it!_

Willow found a glimmer of light—growing dimmer every second—and without even pausing to consider, she poured all her energy into sustaining it, which drained her own proportionately. _Sunset!_ she frantically screamed. _Help me!_

Willow's dragon began swiftly making her way to Willow, assisting her as she was able from a distance, but Willow knew she wouldn't get there fast enough. Varhog's life was so close to ending, and his huge body required more energy to sustain than Willow had inside of her. Willow braced one hand against the ground as her spell threatened to drain her of life.

 _The grass!_ she remembered, feverishly drawing energy from the ground underneath her and reaching her mind further after her arm was fully extended.

The spark of light in Varhog grew to the point where his heart started pounding again. An agonized choking sound ripped from his throat followed by a fit of coughing as his body fought for the oxygen it so urgently needed. With the last of her strength, Willow ended her spell and slumped over Varhog's back just as Sunset crashed through the trees in a reckless landing, pouring energy into Willow to sustain her alarmingly diminished life force.

Varhog turned to his back with a painful grunt, which pulled Willow out straight, leaving her stretched awkwardly over his chest. "Willow!" he fearfully rasped before succumbing to another fit of coughing.

Willow stirred in response to his voice and unsuccessfully attempted to speak. At length she was able to weakly mutter, "I'm here." Sunset continued to feed Willow with vitality until Willow's life force was blazing the color of her scales.

-:-:-

Black Thunder had also flown to his Rider's side, terrified by the abrupt termination of their mental connection and his perception of Varhog. He towered now over the two small figures on the ground, strengthening his Rider with energy until Varhog was completely recovered.

 _My son, you almost left me,_ the dragon rebuked.

 _I . . . I'm sorry, Black Thunder. I didn't want to. Willow saved me._ Varhog sat up, pulling Willow over until she was once again on his lap.

 _But she also almost killed you._ Black Thunder's fury was terrible. He had one black eye trained dangerously on Willow.

 _You know why she did what she did, why we were even fighting!_ Varhog angrily shouted, his own rage escalating as he felt his dragon's intentions. He encircled Willow protectively in his arms. _You will_ not _harm her! You know what that would do to me! It would be the same as if I had just died or if you did. Such would be the depth of my loss! She saved my life! Lucky for us, she was willing to sacrifice herself and had the skill to draw off the earth until you both arrived. She too almost died. Stand down this instant, Black Thunder!_

The dragon relaxed, apology in his thoughts. Sunset also relaxed. Varhog realized she had been prepared to take on his dragon in defense of her Rider, if it came to it.

 _Forgive me, my son,_ Black Thunder said _. When I lost the touch of your mind, the shock was immense. I never could have imagined the frightening emptiness that consumed me at that moment. Take care that this small human girl does not threaten you in such a way again._

 _She won't,_ Varhog retorted. _But thank you for your concern. It's nice to know you care,_ he sarcastically added, still bristling at how his dragon had actually considered attacking Willow _._

Black Thunder rumbled ominously, but Varhog ignored him for the moment, knowing the threat had passed. He returned his attention to Willow.

"That was intense," he quietly said.

"Yes. I guess I now know what to do in both of the situations I thought up. I'm so sorry, Varhog. You almost died! You almost died _twice_ tonight, once at your own hand and once at mine, or my knees at least. I don't ever want to fight you again. Let's consign ourselves to making love not war, fair enough?"

He made a deep sound in his throat—a chuckle of dry amusement—then gingerly rubbed his neck. "Fair enough. I would much rather make love with you than fight. I would imagine the thrill and excitement are much the same. But you did amazingly that last time. How _do_ you always know exactly when to dodge and duck? I try so hard not to give away when I'm going to lunge for you. You were on me before I even regained my balance."

"You know I can't give away my secret, otherwise I would lose my _one_ advantage. If I couldn't triumph, where would that leave us? You might lose all respect for me and abandon me for another!" Willow jested.

"Never. I will never love another as I do you, Willow." Varhog noticed his bare chest and legs and how scantily he was clad given their intimate proximity. He cleared his throat. "If it weren't for the fact that I am an Urgal and we just fought each other, by the way I'm dressed—or _un_ dressed, rather—one might think we really were preparing to make love. Shall I don my clothing?" His previous awkwardness discussing the topic had deserted him.

-:-:-

Willow longed once again to kiss him. It would have been so easy given how they were sitting. Instead, she put her face right next to his and spoke with their lips almost brushing. She felt tendrils of energy between them, inviting her to close the small gap.

"Clothe yourself if you must, but I truly do not mind the closeness of your amazing muscles." Then, sensing the folly of her actions, Willow pulled away. "Actually, being able to see them better helped me even more. Oh dear, does that give you a clue?"

"Not really," Varhog laughed, clearly trying to diffuse the powerful emotions her words—spoken so close to his lips—had elicited. "I had best get dressed. Then we should return to the city. Too many near-death experiences."

"Yes, and too many near kisses," Willow joked. She then made to stand, and Varhog loosened his hold so she could. He also rose and retrieved his clothing. "Your bristles didn't bother me," Willow added in a conversational tone. "What with the adrenaline and empty state of my mind, I didn't even notice them, to be honest."

"You always are," Varhog wryly stated.

Willow smiled. "Yes, I suppose I am. But it will be a different story when I'm naked."

Varhog grimaced. "Please don't say that. It's hard enough for me not to think about it without you throwing it in my face."

Willow guiltily clapped her hand over her mouth. "Sorry," she murmured from behind her fingers. Before either of them could make another suggestive remark, she strode swiftly to Sunset. Her dragon lowered her neck and rested her snout on the top of Willow's head.

 _Sunshine,_ she tenderly thought. _That was too close. You were so dark and cold, almost snuffed out. I need you, my bright, warm ray of sunshine._

Tears sprang to Willow's eyes at the intensity of Sunset's grief. _You saved me. Thank you for helping me save him. I would have been as good as dead if he had died. I love you, Sunset._ Sunset lowered her snout down in front of Willow's body so she could wrap her arms around it. Willow rested her head against the smooth area between Sunset's eyes, her tears spilling onto her dragon's scales.

Wanting to change the subject to something less depressing, she said, You _seemed to have a nice time._ She smiled at Sunset's amusement.

 _Yes, Black Thunder is magnificent in more ways than size and speed._ Sunset revealed no embarrassment or shame at talk of mating, just as Willow didn't. _I did not take kindly to him threatening to harm you, however. But I felt a moment of the desolation he experienced as Varhog's mind went black so I cannot resent him too much. All is well now. Just do not underestimate your own strength. Varhog may be an Urgal, but you are also not a force to be underestimated._

Willow smiled at the compliment and planted a kiss on Sunset's snout. _At least I can do that with_ you _and fear no dire repercussions. Whenever my lips get anywhere near Varhog, they are overcome by some strange magnetic energy that insists I kiss him at once, preferably never to stop again. It's maddening._

Willow felt Sunset's sympathy then jumped as Varhog placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned to face him with another guilty expression, as if he might have overheard her most recent thought.

"You seem to have a warmer relationship with your dragon than I do with mine," Varhog observed. Then he noticed her expression. "What's the matter?" he asked in concern.

"Nothing," Willow quickly assured. Then she laughed. "Oh, but I just lied! The first time I can ever recall. Nothing was something indeed. Let that be a clue to you that I was thinking something inappropriate that involved _you!_ "

Varhog smiled. "Inappropriate? Hmm. You never cease to amuse me, which is saying something for an Urgal. Here, I found these on the ground." He handed her the pins she had worn in her hair. Their hands brushed, and her stomach fluttered.

"Thank you," Willow murmured. "That was thoughtful. I have plenty more. I never would have missed these." As the urge to kiss him once again seized her, she thought to Sunset, _Do you see what I mean? Enough to drive me insane!_

Varhog raised his eyebrows in surprise at Sunset's loud rumble of amusement.

"Never mind," Willow insisted. "I'll tell you after we're married." She gave him an impish grin as she slid the pins in a pocket before turning and bounding up Sunset's leg.

"I'll see you back in the city!" she cried, and they were off. Willow noticed Varhog's look of fierce pride and longing as Sunset sprang into the air and she tightened the straps around her legs.

 _He wants you badly, sunshine,_ Sunset thought.

 _I know!_ Willow exulted. _It makes my heart sing!_ Then she let herself enjoy the time with her beloved friend.

* * *

 **A/N:** The following chapter contains a mature love scene. Skip, if so desired.


	13. Compromise

**13\. Compromise**

The next morning found the group consisting of Eragon and Arya, Murtagh and Nasuada, Willow and Varhog, and Angela and Solembum ready to depart for the Urgal village near Lake Fläm. The dragons met them in the sprawling courtyard. Each twosome mounted their respective dragon, leaving Fírnen to fly alone for the first leg, as Eragon and Arya wished to be together.

The dragons departed in a great flurry of colorful wings and bursts of wind. Their farewell party consisted of Elva, Jeod Longshanks and his wife Helen, Nasuada's war advisor Jörmundur and his family, and a few royal servants, who waved until they were out of sight.

When they had been flying about an hour, Eragon noticed Thorn begin to rise high above the rest of the dragons. Somewhat concerned, he asked Saphira, including Arya in his conversation, _Do you know if Thorn is well?_

Saphira did not immediately respond but first asked Thorn to learn the answer to Eragon's question. When she did reply, it was with indulgent amusement. _Thorn said, 'My riders wish to mate on my back.'_

Eragon was so surprised by the response that he scoffed. But upon sensing that Saphira was serious, his skepticism gave way to mirth, and he let out a loud laugh that carried far on the wind. _I wonder if this is the 'most interesting compromise' Murtagh mentioned last night at dinner._

Arya also seemed delighted by the prospect. _Why_ didn't _I_ _ever think of that? That's a really good idea! Leave it to Nasuada to come up with all the fun._ She turned to look at Eragon, eyeing him suggestively.

Eragon returned her look with one of disbelief. _Really, my love? Would you not get cold?_

 _Not with the heat of your passion to warm me,_ Arya insisted. _And all of the spells we are using to divert the strongest wind._

 _And you wouldn't be embarrassed by Saphira's unavoidable observation of it?_

Now it was Arya's turn to scoff. _Both of our dragons have witnessed us making love before! And she has already experienced most of it through your mind! Besides, she understands the fire in my belly and the iron in my bones. Isn't that how you once put it, Saphira?_

 _Yes, little one. And the fire in your belly for Eragon almost exceeds the fire in my own belly, as intensified as it is with your youngling growing inside of you. I sometimes wonder if his is sufficient to match yours, which is saying something, considering I know how much he burned for you all those years. I would consider it a great honor if you brought him that happiness on my very back._

Eragon bristled at Saphira's jab to his manliness. _So now I must prove my passion for Arya to you, privy as you have always been to it? Is that it? Well, I can't have you thinking me a cool, listless fop. At least fly away a bit to give us some privacy from the others._

Saphira rumbled her approbation and obliged by turning and flapping far enough away that they were out of sight of the other dragons, or their Riders at least. Once they were sufficiently distant, Arya twisted completely around, lifting one leg between them so she could face him. Then she wrapped both legs behind him so Eragon was encircled in them. She smiled eagerly, and a few wisps of hair that had escaped her now-customary flying braid fluttered around their faces, but it didn't bother Eragon.

Arya was clearly anxious to begin, for she did not allow Eragon to be soft and tender. She began swiftly undressing him, ordering Eragon to unclothe them as quickly as he could. So he did, stowing their clothing in a saddlebag within reach.

Eragon worried about the cold again, but Saphira demanded, _Can you not feel the fever in her skin, you dimwit! You can do better than this!_

 _Leave me!_ he growled.

 _Arya did not mind if I observed._

 _How can I do better with you constantly distracting me? Get out of my head!_

Saphira snorted but withdrew enough to let Eragon focus on Arya, continuing to hum her approval of the situation to show she wasn't upset.

Arya echoed the sound, purring her pleasure in Eragon's ear. "You're doing fine, darling."

But in spite of their reassurances, Eragon was determined to pleasure Arya more fiercely than ever before to prove himself her equal in passion. This he most certainly did. After a time, when the lack of relief must have become nearly painful, Arya grabbed his head and cried, "Please, Eragon! I can bear it no longer!"

Eragon turned his face, exulting in the heaving of her chest and the pounding of her heart. This was the first time _she_ had ever begged for him to cease. _How was_ that _!_ he challenged Saphira.

 _I will never again question the fire in your belly, little one,_ Saphira humbly responded, though Eragon sensed her teasing tone. _See how Arya trembles in your arms? Beware though. Having now tasted the true extent of your passion, she will not likely settle for any less in the future._

 _Your deep, rumbling approval served only to intensify everything,_ Eragon acknowledged _._ _So thank you, I suppose. Perhaps I would not be as formidable on my own._

 _No, Eragon. Arya truly was helpless in your clutches. Although as far as I am concerned, you are welcome to do that on my back whenever you wish. Sharing in your happiness is an honor I do not fail to recognize. And Fírnen agrees._

Eragon laughed. _Should it be strange that we can speak so openly of this, or that Arya and I are content to be in your presence during our expression of physical love?_ He knew the answer as he spoke. His and Saphira's minds were so intimately connected that even when Saphira was miles away, she could feel what he felt when he loved Arya in this way, just as he always sensed what Saphira was feeling when she was with Fírnen.

 _I suppose it would seem strange to someone who does not understand the pure nature of our intimate bond,_ Saphira replied _. Our relationship has always been one of the love of friendship and trust, but never passionate love. How ridiculous would that be! And because of the intimate nature of knowing one another's minds, it would be foolishness to think that we could hide feelings as deep as these from the other. Even more laughable is the idea that we would be ashamed the other is aware of them. These feelings and expressions are nothing to be ashamed of, nothing we should keep from the ones nearest and dearest to us. I always thought it regrettable that so many humans kept such discussions so private, almost viewing them as shameful and inappropriate. What kind of an impression does that give the younglings?_

Eragon had struck a chord without even meaning to. He gazed up at Arya and smiled as they continued listening to Saphira's rant. _Then they grow up believing that the feelings that naturally build in them as they mature, urging them toward the finding of a mate and the establishment of a family, are somehow wrong and must be ignored or suppressed. Yes, I can see how it is essential that they be controlled until the right moment, as you demonstrated before your marriage with Arya, but to grow up thinking they are wrong_ is _wrong. Plain wrong._

 _I feel to agree with you, though I hadn't given it much thought until now,_ Eragon said _. As recently as I personally experienced this, I remember all too well the feelings of shame and embarrassment whenever I was curious about intimate expressions of love. One quickly learns not to ask such questions when they are met with shock, shaming, and scolding. I can see how it would be easier to grow up with an open, honest understanding of this topic._

 _Exactly!_ Saphira fervently agreed. _I am glad you understand my meaning. Now perhaps you can teach your own young ones to have a healthier, more realistic view of it than you yourself did._

 _That I will,_ Eragon promised. _And I know Arya agrees._ She nodded that she did. _You know of all the frank lessons she has given me about the true nature of things and how that has dispelled so many superstitious misconceptions I held. Having an honest understanding of things brings confidence and empowerment._

 _Yes, little one,_ Saphira approved. _I am proud of you. Now mind your wife._

Arya's pounding heart had quieted and her breathing had slowed, but she couldn't relax against Eragon since he was still pinning her to his chest with one arm. But she didn't seem to mind. Throughout the entirety of Saphira's soliloquy, Arya had kept her arms cinched around Eragon's neck, gently running her fingers through his hair.

Eragon now straightened, loosening his hold around Arya so she could sit forward in a more comfortable position. She gratefully relaxed, but didn't yet snuggle against his chest in his final favorite moment of sharing their love.

" _That_ was amazing, incredible, indescribable!" Arya exclaimed. "I felt like I was soaring through the sky on the back of a dragon." She giggled giddily, and Eragon laughed. "Of course I _was_ , but I meant within my mind. It was sublime, Eragon. Whatever you did, do it every time! Not that I ever doubted your passion before, as Saphira implied, but I can see now that you never shared it as openly as you did just then, for whatever reason."

"Perhaps I just needed a challenge of my manliness to defy," Eragon suggested, pleased she had enjoyed the experience as much as he had.

"If it makes you feel any better, _I_ have _never_ doubted your manliness," Arya asserted. "You always satisfy me, Eragon. You are the embodiment of masculinity in my mind."

"Even if you're saying that only to flatter my pride, I will accept," Eragon said, gratified.

"No, my husband. I'm not just saying that." And then as if to prove it, Arya began one of her examinations of his body, the kind that always left Eragon's head spinning and the rest of him trembling and breathless.

Eragon couldn't resist the tantalizing effect of her thorough exploration, nor did he try. Their effect on him was something Arya seemed to greatly enjoy, given the way their bodies were still connected.

"That feels _so good,"_ she told him in a voice low and thick. Something about the way she _sounded_ during these moments made Eragon feel wild, and he loved it.

After only a few more moments, Arya buried her face in her arms by his ear, where he clearly heard the evidence of her bliss.

"How was it, love?" Eragon murmured, wanting to hear her voice again.

"Mmmm," Arya replied, still not quite able to speak. After a few deep breaths, she added, "Amazing as always. Thank you, my darling. Your turn now? I haven't given you the chance to keep up."

"No objections here," Eragon managed in response to both her question and her comment. "Just kiss me."

"Gladly." Arya smiled as she returned her mouth to his, resuming the urgent exchange until he pulled away. Eragon stared into her face, noticing even in this moment of deepest pleasure how she admired him.

"You always seem to have more self-restraint than I during these moments," Arya conversationally observed after a time.

"Really? Is that how it seems to you? I always feel like I'm a ravenous beast," Eragon admitted in surprise.

"No, I think _I_ deserve that description, what with the unladylike sounds I make."

"You know how much I love that," Eragon insisted. "Almost nothing arouses me as greatly. It's as if the true, instinctive Arya comes out from behind the prim, proper one. It gratifies me that you will be that open and vulnerable. Do you know that I once snatched my hand back after reaching to take your own, knowing how much it would offend you if I presumed to touch you in concern? From that to this. How far we have come."

"Truly," Arya agreed. "When was that moment?"

"We were traveling together to Ellesméra for the first time. You had just given me a lesson in elf etiquette. When you stood to go, I asked you to wait and reached for your hand, wishing to ask if you were well. But before you turned around, I thought better of it and jerked my hand away so you wouldn't see. When I asked, you were terribly angry and stalked off. Saphira made me run after you to apologize. I was so frustrated that I didn't want to, but she insisted. That trip was the first time I learned your age and realized you were old enough to be my great grandmother."

Eragon gave her an impish grin, which Arya returned with a similar expression. "Lifaen suspected my growing and confused feelings for you and warned me I ought to guard my heart," Eragon went on. "He told me it wouldn't be well-placed in affection for you. Orik agreed. It was humiliating."

"Interesting," Arya murmured, apparently intrigued by his detailed recollection of the events. "Do you recall many of our interactions with such impressive accuracy?"

"Aye, all of them," Eragon confirmed. "Remembering them both helped me through the years apart and made them more difficult. We were so often together, looking out for one another. By the time I left, I couldn't help but feel such a deep admiration for and connection with you, since we had shared so much of import. That's what I attempted to capture in that last fairth I made of you."

"Did you know I kept it?" Arya asked.

Eragon couldn't hide his surprise. "No, I didn't. After your reaction to my first one, I thought you wouldn't likely keep a reminder of my feelings for you, as little as you seemed to regard them."

Arya closed her eyes as a pained expression crossed her face. "Looking at it and thinking your true name was the only thing that made me feel warm in the years of bitter cold I endured. When I first admitted to Fírnen that I loved you, he just said, 'Yes, little one,' like he had known it all along. But he made me come to the realization myself, knowing it would do no good if he tried to force me to see it. He knew it would provide the extra incentive I needed to make the difficult decision to fly to the Isle and leave behind everything in Ellesméra."

Eragon swept the loose hair away from her face, holding it together with her braid. "That's sweet, my love. I'm glad I was indirectly able to provide you with a small measure of comfort when I couldn't be there for you."

He then caressed her cheek with his other hand and said, "One of the last touches you shared with me was one such as this. You told me you didn't want to make a mistake with me. It broke my heart hearing that you thought being with me would be a mistake. At least, that's how I interpreted it. You let me return the gesture. It was so exquisite and painful at the same time. Leaving you was the hardest thing I have ever done."

Tears filled Arya's eyes as Eragon calmly relived these painful memories. "I'm so sorry for the pain I caused you, Eragon."

"You needn't be," he comforted. "I admired you for your decision, though I hated the decision itself. Being apart gave me time to grow into the man you now love and gave you time to realize your feelings for me, or to develop them and then realize them. As such, it seems it was a necessary separation. And the pain of those memories has long been swallowed by the joy of the present." He tenderly hugged her, and she snuggled into him.

"Are you cold now?" Eragon worried, noticing goosebumps on her skin. He rubbed up and down her back to warm her.

"Starting to be," Arya admitted. "But perhaps we could do that again. Have you had enough time to recover?"

 _As much as I hate to interrupt,_ Saphira interrupted before Eragon could reply, _the other dragons are concerned about our long absence. It has been over an hour since I first flew away from them._

 _Really?_ Eragon thought in surprise. _That's disappointing. I suppose we should get dressed._

 _At least we need never wait to do that until our travels bring us to our next destination_ , Arya consoled.

 _Aye_ , Eragon agreed. _Now we might actually be able to get some sleep at night_. He grinned. _Not that flying on your back has ever been dull, Saphira, but this makes it infinitely more enjoyable and interesting._

Arya giggled, continuing to snuggle against him. _I want to delay the moment when I won't be able to feel your warm chest against my bare skin. I can never get enough of you, darling._

 _For which I will always be the luckiest man alive. Remind me to thank Nasuada for the inspiration._

Arya laughed, reluctantly pulling away at last. _Retrieve my clothing, please. Though it is a poor substitute for the warmth and softness of your chest, I suppose my desire to be modest around the others requires it._

Eragon did as Arya asked. They laughed for several minutes at their awkwardness of trying to dress on Saphira's back. Finally Arya simply stood up to pull her pants on.

Eragon pulled his shirt over his head before copying her method of donning his pants. As he resumed his seat, Arya once again snuggled into his chest.

 _I could not forgo this final pleasure,_ Arya thought. _It is one of my favorite moments._

 _Mine also_ , Eragon agreed, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her head.

They remained in their warm embrace as Saphira rejoined the other dragons and began a slow descent.

-:-:-

After they landed for a brief rest, it didn't take long for Murtagh and Nasuada to learn that Thorn had given away their secret and that Arya and Eragon had boldly copied them.

Arya regarded Nasuada for a time before Nasuada finally asked, "Why are you looking at me like that, Arya?"

"Eragon told me I must remind him of something," Arya said with a grin at Eragon, who shifted uncomfortably where he was sitting.

"Must you, my love?" Eragon helplessly asked.

"She _does_ deserve our thanks," Arya insisted with exaggerated innocence.

Eragon sighed in resignation. "Very well." He turned to Nasuada. With a tone of underlying humor, he formally said, "Your Majesty, I wish to thank you for the inspiration you provided my wife during our flight just now. It made for a most interesting and enjoyable experience." He looked back at Arya and, noticing her obvious delight, allowed his own enjoyment to be more pronounced. "Was that sufficient?"

"Yes, darling," Arya said, smiling as she leaned into his chest.

With a pointed glare at Thorn, Murtagh let out a sigh of mock exasperation. "And here I thought to have _one_ situation I would be first at."

"Unless you were very slow in your elderly age, I'm sure you _were_ first, old chap," Eragon returned without missing a beat. "The question remains as to how many times you engaged in said situation before landing here. That will determine the true victor."

Murtagh couldn't restrain a bark of amused laughter. Their wives also laughed, both pleased and slightly humiliated this discussion was happening in front of the others, though they needn't have worried. It didn't bother Varhog or Willow in the slightest.

Willow slyly glanced at Varhog. "Most interesting, indeed. I hope we will continue to have opportunity to fly together after we're married."

The calm amusement in Varhog's expression deepened. "That _would_ be interesting," he simply agreed. Willow laughed and took his hand.

Angela looked mildly disapproving, as she often did when their conversation turned to this topic. She huffed and rolled her eyes, not taking them from the sweater she was knitting. Solembum, of course, was completely apathetic. He sat licking his paws, for he assumed his cat form whenever they were on the ground.

Murtagh finally rejoined, "It was . . . ah . . . most pleasant, though I fear for the sake of my wife's dignity that I ought not to delve into the details."

His expression became scandalized as Nasuada boldly said, "Three times to be exact. So who is the victor?"

Eragon laughed loudly, as did Murtagh when he recovered. "If you're speaking of Murtagh, then he is," Eragon answered. "Although only over me. That would put him in a tie with Arya." Arya laughed delightedly as the conversation continued. Saphira, Thorn, and the other dragons rumbled appreciatively.

Nasuada asked in confusion, "Wait, if you only . . . then how did she. . . ? Oh, never mind. I see." She opened her mouth as if to say something but apparently changed her mind. Instead she said, "I'll have to consult with Arya about that sometime."

Murtagh laughed again, clearly relieved that his wife's warm wit could extend to such a discussion. He put his arms around her and asked, "What were you going to say before you changed your mind?"

"I fear you will find it unforgiveable, my dear, but I was going to suggest you get some pointers from Eragon on the matter," Nasuada admitted.

Murtagh scoffed. "Unforgiveable? Never. You will never do something I cannot forgive. You have been forced to forgive me of some monstrous crimes, and I will always follow that noble example. Besides, that's probably not a bad idea. I can't help it if Eragon was first to enjoy such expressions, though younger than I. And I refuse to resent the fact that he and Arya copied your magnificent idea. It was still _your_ idea, first and foremost, and we will all be forever grateful to you." Nasuada smiled at him and kissed his cheek.

"I only know what Arya likes," Eragon objected.

"But you would like it," Arya confidently assured Nasuada. "There's no question. Although it might help if Murtagh would grow a beard." She laughed as she stroked the side of Eragon's face, and all the other females—including Angela—joined her, though Angela quickly sought to suppress it and kept her eyes down on her project.

"Give me a few months and I'm sure my wife will also be begging for mercy," Murtagh said. "It is fortunate that we will have such opportunity to practice these next several days. Speaking of which, the dragons really aren't that tired. Shall we once again take to the skies?" He authoritatively stood, helping Nasuada to her feet.

The others laughed at his obvious innuendo. Having finished their brief late-morning meal, they all shifted and prepared to rise.

As Eragon stood and helped Arya up in a similar chivalrous gesture, Arya mischievously asked, "How _did_ you know I was begging for mercy, Murtagh? Were you spying on us as you did Willow and Varhog?"

She let out a trill of laughter when Eragon and Murtagh _both_ colored in embarrassment. Murtagh opened his mouth, but no clever remark seemed ready to roll off his tongue so he closed it again. Arya reached up and placed her hand over Eragon's burning ear.

"Why should _you_ be mortified? I would have thought based off your bravado of moments ago that you would burst with pride to have your wife admit such a thing. You know, the one thing about your beard that I'm not fond of is how it hides most of your face when you flush like that. It somewhat diminishes the triumph of making you ill at ease."

In the end, Murtagh simply laughed as he guided Nasuada toward the dragons. Upon reaching Thorn, Murtagh smacked him amiably on his nearest foreleg and said aloud, "Thank you, old friend, for your confidence. I can trust you with anything."

In his deep, musical mental voice, Thorn replied in turn for all to sense with their minds, _I saw no harm in answering Saphira's question. Little did I know it would lead to this. But there is no shame in this expression. Mating is as basic a need to survival as eating, once the time is right. The transformation it has wrought in you is proof enough of that._

"Too true, old friend," Murtagh agreed. "And since you were the one who had to endure my pre-transformation misery the most intimately, I cannot begrudge you your relief and happiness now."

Thorn rumbled, and the ground trembled in response. Murtagh helped Nasuada up into the saddle. As he also began to mount, he turned to Eragon and casually asked, "Say, what was your method for removing your clothing?"

"Easy," Eragon replied with equal calm. "I ripped it off. Would you like Arya to teach you the spell for mending torn clothes?"

Murtagh could barely contain his laugh. "I think I can manage. Does anyone object to simply eating our lunch during the flight? We can land again this evening. I'm sure I will be in need of rest by then."

This was met by many laughs, and no one objected. But Willow did say, "Eragon, Arya, will you be flying with Fírnen this next stretch?" They nodded. "Then perhaps Angela and Solembum wouldn't object to flying on Saphira, as they are more used to her than the males from their interaction during the war. Then I could ride Sunset. What do you think, Angela?"

Angela said, "If Saphira will fly as gently as your kind dragon has, then I do not object." When her curiosity seemed to get the better of her, she added, "But why do you wish to change arrangements now?"

Willow cleared her throat. "The knowledge of what all the married folk will be busy doing might prove more of a temptation than I wish to endure snuggled comfortably in Varhog's arms. Better to avoid the situation altogether." The married couples sympathetically assented, which settled the matter. Willow gave Varhog an apologetic glance.

"I couldn't agree more, Eartheyes," he gratefully reassured, and Willow smiled in relief.

Then they all mounted their various dragons and once again took to the skies.


	14. Lake Fläm

**14\. Lake Fläm**

The Riders spent the next several days flying, with Willow and Varhog on their own dragons, Angela and the werecat on Saphira, and the married couples on Thorn or Fírnen. One evening while around their fire, Varhog spoke during a moment of silence. He was so often silent himself that everyone turned to him in surprise.

"I thought it would be wise and helpful to familiarize you with some of the customs of my people," he quietly explained, though everyone easily heard his deep voice.

They all nodded their assent, so Varhog continued, "Firesword and Arya will be given a dwelling to stay in during our visit because he is so highly revered by the Urgralgra. Lady Nightstalker and Murtagh will be shown equal respect. Mooneater," he addressed Angela, "you are also greatly honored by my people. If you wish to have a hut, you will not be denied, but my understanding is that you are quite content to be left to your own devices."

Angela nodded her agreement with a cheerful grin. "I'll be here and there," she mysteriously replied.

"Willow, I'm not sure what to expect with regard to you. They will treat you tolerantly due to your station as Rider, but as a human and a female without the standing of Lady Nightstalker, the mate of Firesword, or Mooneater—who has quite the reputation among the Urgralgra—they may not pay you much attention beyond that. I suppose they will expect you to stay with the other Riders. My family would consider it strange to have you as a guest unless they were aware of our relationship, but I'm still not sure how I will go about telling them I mean to take you as my mate. Whenever that time comes, everyone here needs to be prepared for the possibility that fighting will occur, but stay out of it as much as you can. This is something I must settle with my people. If Willow is expected to fight, then I ask you all not to interfere unless it is clear that she is about to be killed. Short of that, any interference will only make matters worse."

Varhog changed the topic. "Greetings among Urgals are based off shows of friendship and respect in the case of allies or with a show of strength and dominance in the case of foes. To show friendship we raise our chins, which is an indication that we don't mean to ram you with our horns. Raising your fists to your forehead is a show of respect. I will greet my kinsmen with loud bellowing and ramming of the horns, as is customary between war chiefs. Though I am technically not one, as a Dragon Rider, they view me as of the same ranking. With the exception of Firesword, Mooneater, Lady Nightstalker, and Murtagh, who have all interacted more extensively with those of my kind, when I introduce each of you, you need do nothing more than raise your chins. You others can extend the show of respect if you wish, though you wouldn't be thought less of if you don't.

"Life in the village is not much different from what you would expect to see in a rural human village. There will be children running about playing and women washing, cooking, sewing, tending gardens—things of that nature. At this time of year, they will be preparing food for winter. Not many will be able to communicate with you. Those who can will use the common tongue. My family all speak the common tongue, and they will likely welcome you and involve you in village life during our stay. They will also be willing to help with translation if you desire to speak with someone else, but no one will look unkindly on quiet, unobtrusive observation of our ways.

"The older rams with mates and families spend most of the day hunting for food, seeing to any crops they might have, or overseeing training for the younger rams. These fight and test themselves in contests to prepare for the Games, where they can prove their eligibility to take a mate. The rams would welcome the opportunity to test themselves against Firesword and Murtagh, and anyone else willing to stand against them. When they are not thus engaged, they will be with their families, helping their mates or playing with the children. In the evenings, the families gather either in their own huts or as a whole to hear stories and histories of our race. We should arrive there tomorrow midmorning. Does anyone have any questions?"

Eragon, who was brushing Arya's hair, asked, "What if Willow proves herself worthy of you and they approve of a union? What then?"

"There will be a simple ceremony. Some chanting, a ritual. Nothing like Lady Nightstalker's celebration. Then they will hold a huge feast and engage in contests, fights, and games. That's all."

Arya asked, "What if they do not find her worthy? I know that won't change your intentions. Will they drive her away?"

"Then I will part ways with my people," Varhog gravely responded. "If they cannot accept her and a union between us, they are disowning me in the same moment, and I fear what may happen. I am determined not to let that happen, if at all possible."

Angela said, "I would hear the stories of your people to see if I can learn anything that will help me in my purpose on this journey."

Varhog chortled quietly. "They will tell you stories, Mooneater. And they will hear yours. Seek the elders and the Herndall. I'll translate, if need be."

"You needn't," Angela said. "I can speak Urgralish just fine." Varhog nodded.

Willow was staring pensively into the fire.

Varhog asked, "What of you, Eartheyes? Do you not have any questions?"

She looked at him. "No, Yelloweyes. None I haven't already asked. But may we ride together once more tomorrow? Would it be best not to be seen like that before you announce your intentions?"

"We can ride together. There is nowhere within the village for all five dragons to land at once. The village square would accommodate a few if they landed one after the other and moved out of the way, but I'm planning to land outside of the forest near the lake and dismount before anyone notices. Don't stand too close to me or give any clues of our relationship." She nodded and returned her gaze to the fire, which didn't hide the shimmering in her eyes as tears threatened to appear.

Varhog did not take his eyes off her, and he noticed her reaction. "Does anyone have anything else they want to ask?"

No one did, so Varhog made one final request. "Eartheyes, will you walk with me for a moment?"

Willow nodded, rising gracefully and striding away from the fire. Varhog also stood and followed after her.

-:-:-

Willow walked far enough away to be out of sight and hearing of the others. Varhog remained by her side until she stopped and turned to face him. He closed the distance between them and put his arms around her. "I'm sorry it has to be this way," he gently said.

"Thank you. I understand why it must be." She rested her head against him and listened to his heart. "I hope we can quickly overcome this obstacle. I hate the idea of being apart. And I just thought of a question. If they approve our union and we enter it, how should I act then? You have already told me that Urgals aren't open about affection. Will I still need to keep my distance and not touch you?"

"Affectionate touch between mates is common, especially when the couple is newlywed. You needn't fear standing by my side or touching my hands or arms, nor even embracing me as we now are."

"Very well. What if they demand to know what I'm thinking in accepting you as a mate or thinking I could have you? If I'm honest, would I make matters worse?"

"What would you be inclined to say if asked that?"

"That I want to be your mate because you are my dearest friend, I love you, I know you can protect me, and I want to share my life with you."

"None of that would make matters worse," Varhog said, his voice revealing his deep emotions. "Be yourself, Willow. That's how you won me."

"I know I can be myself," she said. "I wish you could kiss me right now or the other way around. I know why we can't, but it seems like it would somehow help me feel better. What if we never got to for some reason?"

"We will get to, Willow. I promise. Whatever happens in my village, I will kiss you as my mate. I swear it." Varhog tilted her chin up with one finger and gently kissed her forehead, which was the first time he had ever kissed her anywhere.

Her stomach did its increasingly familiar flutter. "I believe you," Willow whispered. "I will let that be enough for now."

After a long pause, during which her agitation grew, she whispered even more quietly than before, "Will you hold me in your arms tonight? Just so I can feel their reassuring strength and have you near? I think I'll sleep better."

"It would be my honor, Eartheyes," Varhog said. "Shall we return to the others or stay here?"

"Return," she decided. "Let's go now. I'm weary."

-:-:-

Willow and Varhog walked hand in hand back to the others, pausing briefly so he could announce, "We are retiring. Good night."

They made their way to where Sunset and Black Thunder were resting with their front paws overlapping. Varhog grabbed a few bundles from his saddlebags. "For your comfort not mine," he explained as he spread out a blanket on the ground near the dragons' heads. "Urgralgra rams grow accustomed to sleeping on the ground when hunting." He took her hand once again and sat, inviting her down with him. "How do you imagine this happening?" he asked in mild confusion.

"Lie down and get comfortable, then I will too," Willow suggested.

Varhog lay flat on his back, stuffing one of the bundles under his head. "I can sleep like this all night without moving," he said, looking up at her.

Willow gathered her hair and held it up while she lowered herself down, pressing her body alongside his and aiming her head for his upper chest. She draped her hair over his shoulder while folding her other arm underneath her. Then she rested her top arm on his chest and bent one knee slightly so it was on his leg. "I'm comfortable," she murmured.

Varhog grabbed the other blanket he had retrieved and pulled it over her all the way up to her neck. He put one arm over hers where it was resting on his chest and laid his hand on her shoulder. "Is this acceptable?" he asked.

"Mmm-hmm," she sleepily muttered. "Thank you, Varhog."

Varhog could tell that she drifted off to sleep quickly by how her breathing slowed and deepened. He lay awake looking at the stars long after the others had also retired, praying to the gods of his people that they would help him protect the woman in his arms and win the approval of his people in taking her as his mate.

-:-:-

They passed over Lake Fläm the next morning, just as Varhog had predicted. _My village is on the other side nearest the mountains,_ Varhog said to Willow in her mind. They had communicated so frequently in this manner during the past month that it now felt as normal as speaking aloud. He loved the warm, bright tone of her mind but noticed it was somewhat more subdued than normal.

 _I'm nervous,_ Willow admitted. _But well rested. Thank you for letting me sleep next to you last night. It will be nice to sleep like that every night once we're married. When we actually_ are _sleeping, that is, and not otherwise occupied._ He felt her teasing humor.

Varhog tightened his arms around her. _Yes,_ both _will be nice. To say the least, I'm sure._

Willow said nothing else to him the remainder of the flight, which lasted less than an hour. When they were close enough to see a small group of villagers that, at the sight of the dragons' approach, had begun to gather at the edge of the trees behind which their village lay, Varhog said, _We may not be able to avoid them seeing us. I hesitate to ask Black Thunder to hold back. I should land first since I'm from here, but perhaps some dust from the ground—which will billow up as he lands—will obscure us from sight. Don't worry, Willow. All will be well._

 _Will it look too obvious if I part from you after we have landed?_ Willow asked. _Should I stay nearby but not too close?_

 _You wait for the others. I will approach my people._

After mentally communicating with the other dragons, Black Thunder led the way in their descent toward the clearing. As Varhog had hoped, clouds of dust billowed up under the gusts of Black Thunder's wings as he back-flapped to slow himself. He landed with a great boom, and the earth shuddered under the impact. The villagers cheered. It was the first time Varhog had returned to his people since he had left for Ellesméra, and Black Thunder was far larger.

Willow dismounted and walked a short distance away while Varhog climbed down and headed toward his people. Willow hung back and waited for the other dragons to land. Once the other Riders and members of their company were all on the ground, they moved together toward where Varhog stood in front of an ever growing crowd of Urgals. News of the dragons' unprecedented arrival seemed to be spreading quickly.

The others organized themselves in a loose line, with Eragon closest to Varhog and Arya by his side. Nasuada and Murtagh were next, then Angela and Solembum the cat. Willow stood at the end, the only one without a pair.

-:-:-

Willow immediately identified the Kull in the crowd since they usually stood at least a foot above any of the other tallest Urgals. The Kull talking to Varhog appeared to be the tallest. She guessed this was his uncle, the war chief Nar Garzhvog. As Garzhvog raised his arms in the air and bellowed, Williw found herself unconsciously retreating into her mind to observe him from the calculated perspective of a fight. Varhog echoed the greeting back to his uncle, then they both lowered their heads and butted their horns together. Even though Garzhvog was so much taller—by over a foot—Varhog did not budge from his position at the powerful smash. He appeared to be just as strong.

Varhog greeted another ram next, one who bore him a striking resemblance, and Willow thought it might be the brother he had mentioned before, Yarbog. They skipped the bellow and greeted by butting heads. Then Varhog reached a proud, late middle-aged female Urgal, who placed her hands on either side of his face to pull it down, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead against his in a loving manner. Could she be his mother?

Varhog then lifted his chin and raised his voice enough for all to hear, speaking in Urgralish. The only words Willow recognized from the indecipherable jumble of guttural grunts and clicks were "Dragon Riders." There must have been a hundred Urgals gathered in the clearing at that point, and a steady stream continued to swell their numbers.

Now Varhog turned to the Riders behind him. He switched to the common tongue and began his introductions, addressing Garzhvog. He started with Eragon, who lifted his chin and raised his fists to his forehead at Nar Garzhvog.

The war chief said, "Firesword. It is an honor to see you again. And you, Flametongue," he said to Saphira, who dipped her head from where she was standing behind Eragon.

Varhog introduced Arya as "Firesword's mate, Arya." She raised her chin at the war chief, looking regal.

Nar Garzhvog said, "I'm glad you have found a worthy mate, Firesword. It has been many years since we last met, Arya. Welcome back to the Bolvek tribe." Arya murmured her thanks.

Before Varhog could introduce Nasuada, Nar Garzhvog raised his arms and bellowed at her, as he had with Varhog and with Nasuada herself once before.

She smiled and said, "I will decline the opportunity to butt heads with you, Nar Garzhvog, but I thank you for the honor of your welcome."

Garzhvog chuckled and replied, "Lady Nightstalker, it is also an honor to have you visit this village. You are revered here for your role in bringing down the lack-horned betrayer and honoring your promises to our people."

Willow knew from Varhog that Nar Garzhvog had great reason to hate Galbatorix, since the late king had killed his mate.

Nasuada said, "Thank you. I hope that at some point during this visit we can discuss certain matters of state and how they are affecting our races. But until then, this is _my_ new mate. Murtagh, meet Nar Garzhvog. Garzhvog, Murtagh."

"We have met," Garzhvog calmly said. "When Murtagh brought the last dragon egg to hatch for the Urgralgra. You never let on of your feelings for Lady Nightstalker."

Murtagh grinned. "No, I didn't. I finally came to my senses and asked her to marry me. Well met, Nar Garzhvog."

Varhog had not moved from his position at the beginning of the row, since Nar Garzhvog seemed to know all the people anyway. Garzhvog greeted Angela in a friendly way as "Mooneater," with a request to hear one of her stories during her visit. Then he stopped in front of Willow.

Varhog walked over and said, "This is Willow. She is a Dragon Rider on the Isle. Willow, this is my uncle, Nar Garzhvog, war chief of the Bolvek tribe."

Willow lifted her chin and said nothing.

Garzhvog stiffly greeted, "As a Dragon Rider, you are welcome, human." A light breeze blew around her in his direction as he turned back toward the crowd. He and Varhog stiffened at the same moment, their nostrils flaring. A look of annoyance briefly crossed Varhog's face, but he cleared his expression before Garzhvog noticed.

Garzhvog slowly turned back toward Willow, who hadn't moved. He spoke to Varhog but kept his eyes on Willow, a flinty look in them. "She smells of you. And you _reek_ of her. Why?" he demanded.

Varhog kept his face blank as he replied, "We sometimes flew together from the Isle when her dragon was needed to carry other passengers."

Nar Garzhvog counted the dragons and people. "If the Riders with mates flew together, there would have been an extra dragon." He seemed to think of a terrible idea at the mention of mates and turned his steely gaze on Varhog, who did not react in any manner. "What is the meaning of this?" he said in an ominous tone.

Varhog seemed to recognize this as the unwelcome moment—given the already hostile manner of his uncle—of announcing his intentions. He firmly said, "I mean to take this woman as my mate."

Garzhvog was deathly still. Willow could sense the tension in him increasing by the moment and saw that he was at a loss for words. Finally after a very long, painful silence he said, "That is impossible. Such an abomination will not be allowed."

Garzhvog turned to go, obviously feeling that ended the discussion, but Varhog stood his ground and said, "You are wrong, uncle. I _will_ have her."

Garzhvog turned his head back toward Varhog, glaring down at him in rage. "You dare defy me, nephew?" he rumbled. Mutters of disbelief and shock were issuing forth from the crowd as those nearest the exchange passed the news back to those farther away.

"I have proven myself worthy to take a mate. I chose her, and she accepted. Nothing in the customs of our race prevents me from choosing a human," Varhog evenly replied.

"What is not explicitly written is clearly implied," Garzhvog spat. "The Urgralgra do _not_ mate with filthy, disgusting humans. I—we—will not allow the first Dragon Rider of our kind to desecrate the pride of our race in this heinous way."

"It is not a desecration. She _is_ worthy to have me. I will leave and never return if this is your final judgment," Varhog warned, dangerous in his own right. Willow noticed the proud female, who had been one of the first to greet Varhog, despairingly clasp her hands at his words.

Something snapped in Garzhvog. "What do you mean, _worthy_ to have you!" he roared. "No human will ever be worthy to have an Urgal. No human would ever accept an Urgal, as biased and blind as they all are. What trickery is this, Varhog? Is this woman a witch to have fooled you like this?"

"She _is_ worthy. You know nothing of her. Your own biases are blinding you right now," Varhog replied, calm as ever. "She can defeat me in single combat, something no Urgralgra female present would be able to claim."

" _She_ can defeat _you_?" Garzhvog scoffed in angry disbelief. Varhog's brother did the same, as well as a number of other rams near enough to hear and understand their words. " _She can best you!_ You could crush this puny human under your heel! Do not mock me by suggesting such nonsense."

"She can, Garzhvog. She has done it dozens of times. Again, something no female Urgralgra would ever be able to claim and very few rams besides. She is worthy of me, and I have earned the right to choose my mate."

Garzhvog swung his massive head back toward Willow and trained his eyes on her. "You would _dare_ presume yourself worthy of one of our finest rams, human?" He spat at her feet. Varhog clenched his fists, lowered his head, and rammed his uncle in the side with massive force, bowling him over, so intense was his fury.

"Do not disrespect her like that," Varhog rumbled with lethal rage in his eyes.

Garzhvog sprang to his feet, his eyes flashing, and acted like he would retaliate but apparently changed his mind. Scowling again at Willow, he ordered, "Answer me."

With no fear in her voice Willow simply said, "Yes."

Garzhvog spluttered, "Why would you want to be the mate of an Urgralgra ram, human? Surely the thought is just as repulsive to you as it is to me that he claims wanting _you_!"

"No, it's not," Willow responded. "I want to be Varhog's mate because he is my dearest friend and I love him."

Garzhvog regarded her with a deadly glint in his eye. "You lie."

"No, I never do," Willow said. "If you knew me, you would know that. I am worthy to choose him as my mate, according to the customs of your own race. I have defeated him numerous times in hand-to-hand fighting, something, as he said, most Urgals would not be capable of."

"Is that so?" Garzhvog hissed. "We shall see." Then he turned to the crowd and barked some clipped phrases in Urgralish.

Varhog's voice was suddenly in all their minds, _He asks if there are any eligible females present who would like to step forward and attempt to stake a claim on me. He seeks to disprove me and Willow. I will fight them. This will be good, Willow. It will make your own triumph all the more impressive._

About two dozen females, ranging from between nineteen to thirty, made their way to the front of the crowd where the war chief stood.

Varhog translated as his uncle again spoke in the language of the Urgals. _This ram means to take this human female as his mate. She claims she can defeat him in hand-to-hand combat, and he claims no Urgralgra female would be capable. You have all indicated a willingness to face him to stake your own claim on him._ Garzhvog turned to Varhog, who continued to translate. _If one of these females could defeat you, would you abandon this madness at once?_

Varhog growled his short reply as he said in their minds, _Yes, uncle, I would._

Garzhvog's final remark was, _Good. Then let's put an end to this._

The women were tall, some nearly as tall as Varhog himself. One was Kull. Most were between Willow's height and Varhog's. Willow was able to see in them the same beauty she saw in Varhog. Some, she guessed, would have been thought of as very lovely by their own race, with long hair and bright eyes and straight noses. Indeed, with her unprejudiced eyes, Willow thought them pretty. Others might not have been considered as attractive, but they universally eyed her with revulsion and loathing. Varhog they regarded with admiration and desire, clearly all wanting him as their mate. Willow supposed he must have known them all before he came to the Isle, though the youngest would have been only small children at the time. She felt no jealousy of these would-be competitors, knowing they didn't stand a chance against Varhog, just as she hadn't in their early days of sparring.

"How would you have me fight, uncle?" Varhog asked. "Need I dress down?"

"Stay as you are," Garzhvog tersely instructed. "I wish for this to be over with."

The female Urgals formed a line of sorts, and Varhog walked over to face the first one, muttering a greeting—he did know her—which she returned. When Garzhvog indicated that they begin, Varhog lunged forward and caught her before she could even react. Apparently he too wished for this to be over with. She struggled commendably but futilely against his implacable strength, and he forced her to the ground, where she quickly submitted. There was no hope.

Time after time, almost before they could even think to dodge, Varhog attacked and grabbed them all in some type of inescapable hold, forcing them to admit defeat. It was almost amusing how outmatched they were. Willow marveled that she was able to beat him and knew the only reason was their many years of practice. What was happening now looked all too familiar. She recognized it from their first many months of fighting, when Varhog had always caught her within seconds.

It was over in minutes. None of the females even came close to besting Varhog.

Garzhvog cursed angrily. "Now you must defeat any ram who wishes to oppose the monstrosity you are proposing," he said, enraged. "This thing cannot be!"

Since the Riders and those with them heard his remark, Varhog didn't translate as Garzhvog turned and shouted over the crowd.

Dozens of rams came forward, obviously determined to keep Varhog from going forward with his plans. Many were Kull. Willow was worried, but when she looked at Varhog, she felt more confident. She recognized his fighting face, which actually wasn't much different from the expressionless mask he wore most of the time. But with his fighting mask, the biggest difference was that his eyes were also blank and emotionless. Even against the Kull, Varhog would still be superior, just as he always was when fighting Grintuk on the Isle. He could anticipate their moves and understand how everything around him and his opponent would affect the fight. Garzhvog must have underestimated how much his fighting abilities had improved as a Dragon Rider.

Varhog faced off with the first one, and it was much like the first female Urgal, only the ram was able to struggle longer because of his greater strength. Even so, within minutes, he admitted defeat. Time and again, Varhog took down his opponents, always knowing how to adjust for the Kull. He was so calm and confident that he barely got winded.

Willow paid very close attention from her fighting mind. She calculated all of the differences she would need to consider if she had to face a Kull, including the extra length of his arms, body, and legs; his heavier head and how that would affect his balance; and his thicker neck. She absorbed and processed as much information and stimuli as possible.

The second round of fighting took much longer because there were so many more rams than females who had stepped forward—only single females of the age to take a mate had been invited—but Varhog finally defeated all who opposed him. He was dripping sweat from his effort and his clothes were completely drenched, but his breathing, while heavy, was controlled. His final opponent had been Garzhvog himself, who had sprung forward in fury after Varhog had forced the last of his foes into submission. Varhog now had him pinned to the ground where he had admitted defeat after many long minutes of struggling.

In a severe voice Varhog demanded, "Have I now proved myself, uncle? Can I take this woman with your approval?"

The Herndall had been summoned and were also observing this momentous occasion from one side, muttering disapprovingly among themselves and occasionally shaking the carved staffs in their gnarled hands.

One of the ancient dams from the clan's ruling council chanted, "You have proven a most formidable foe, Dragon Rider Varhog. None in our tribe could stand against you, not even your uncle, our war chief, for which you should have any mate of your choosing. But a human? Such a thing cannot be! You say she can defeat you?"

Varhog jerked his head down in a nod while letting Garzhvog up. "She can. Easily. And she is prepared to demonstrate it to prove her claim on me. Will you give me your word that if she can, you will sanction our union?"

The muttering resumed as the twelve old females discussed among themselves once more. Garzhvog stalked over and added many heated comments, gesturing angrily with his hands.


	15. Stake a Claim

**15\. Stake a Claim**

Finally the representative Herndall answered Varhog, "We will not lightly grant our blessing, Dragon Rider. What you ask is the gravest concession we have ever had to consider. She must not only defeat you, but also two others, in accordance with our customs. When a ram seeks to be worthy of a mate, he must best three opponents, and the same is expected of her. We will choose who faces her after you, if she truly _can_ bring you down. And for this to be, she must prove that she could kill you if she wished. For nothing less will we bestow our consent."

Varhog nodded his understanding. "It will be even as you say."

Then the ancient Urgal dam added, "And you must be fully recovered before you face her. You just defeated nearly a hundred foes. We must know she can overthrow you when you are at your strongest."

"My dragon will replenish my strength," Varhog said as he walked to Black Thunder, striding past Willow without even looking at her, which didn't trouble her in the least in her emotionless mental state. Indeed, it seemed the only logical thing he could do.

"There will be no use of magic and you will fight her as rams fight, in a loin cloth," Garzhvog instructed. Varhog raised his hand as Black Thunder lowered his snout to touch it. They remained still for several minutes, then the dragon raised his head. Varhog was no longer sweating and showed no sign of weariness. He stripped as he had during his and Willow's practice session in the forest, leaving his clothes by his dragon. Then he stalked back to Garzhvog.

"I'm ready," he said.

"Come forward, human," Garzhvog snarled. "Prove your words now or depart and never return again!"

Willow walked forward and let her hair down, already sensing that Varhog was charged by energy and adrenaline. He would be fiercer. He couldn't help it. The rush of triumphing over dozens of foes, one after the other, must have been immense. But his eyes were still blank. He was as deadly as Willow had ever seen him, but she simply added her observations to the growing checklist of stimuli to process and filter, nothing concerning her or causing her to doubt the outcome.

They faced each other in watchful readiness, awaiting Garzhvog's signal. When he gave it, Varhog released a terrifying roar that did nothing to lessen his pent-up energy but seemed only to intensify it. Willow sensed him coil to spring as she had watched him do countless times in the past hour, and it seemed so rehearsed that she almost felt bored as she easily sidestepped the lunge and ducked the trailing arm. She took her time dodging Varhog, not because she couldn't have jumped on his back after any one of his attacks, but simply to give herself time to take in her surroundings. She clearly sensed Garzhvog's angry disbelief, as palpable as it was, though she never looked at him.

Willow felt a heavy certainty that she would face Nar Garzhvog, and with that in mind, she contemplated a way to reach his back. She had always expected that this contest would take place within a forest, but they were in an open, grassy field. She again sidestepped a lunge from Varhog, jumping as he kicked out toward her.

The clearness of the ground would be good for a few reasons—sound footing, no sharp rocks to be bashed against—but at the same time, there was nothing around that provided a stepping stone. An idea came to her mind, and Willow filed it away for when she would need it.

With the information she needed, Willow waited no longer. She returned her full focus to Varhog, backing up so he would be more centrally located between the different groups of people observing their contest—the Riders, the Urgal crowd, and the Herndall. Varhog advanced rapidly, but she retreated at the same pace. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, like they were partners in a languid dance.

Willow focused on his feet, knees, and thighs, like she always did right before she made her own attack. Varhog tensed with his left leg down, so she knew she would dart away from his right hand, which would be closer to her when he caught himself after his lunge. She waited just a moment longer than in any of her previous dodges. During those times, she had not had her full attention on Varhog, so her subconscious mind had always warned her to move just a moment sooner than needed to ensure that she would remain safe.

This time Willow waited until he thought he would have her—she knew he sensed her nearly imperceptible delay. Varhog put all his strength into his lunge in the very moment he executed it, which was his attempt to keep his intentions from her until it was too late, but Willow had her clues long before. She spun, ducked, and sprang onto his back in movements that were so indistinguishable as to almost be one. A collective gasp went up from their audience, which Willow processed indifferently. Varhog staggered to right himself as he had in the forest, while Willow assumed her stranglehold more tightly than ever before. There would be no doubt she was the victor.

In his moment of false hope that he would finally catch her and also because he must have felt an inflated sense of invincibility after all his triumphs, Willow knew that Varhog carelessly forgot to fill his lungs. His body now reacted more swiftly to the lack of oxygen. He swatted futilely toward her perch, never touching her, and clawed desperately at her arms but found no purchase. He dropped to his knees.

Willow remembered how he had rolled to his back as unconsciousness threatened during their practice round, and she prepared to counter it. Varhog had to fall forward. But he didn't try this time. From his mind, Willow could feel that his muscles were in urgent need of vital nutrients in his adrenaline-heightened state, and they quickly rebelled when denied the fresh blood and oxygen that gave them their power. His hands slammed to the ground.

Willow already had part of her mind trained on his consciousness so she would know the very moment she needed to release him, and she felt some of the agonized burning in his lungs and muscles. He collapsed to his chest.

With the final shuddering of his body Varhog opened his mind to her and weakly said, _Fight for me, Willow. I love you._ Then the light of his awareness went out, and Willow released her hold by pulling her arms out from under him.

She sprang up and, while placing a foot on his back, challenged, "I have bested your mightiest warrior! Who now dares face me?"

The crowd was profoundly silent. After witnessing Varhog defeat every foe with unchecked impunity, they were obviously stunned that Willow had so easily brought him down.

Yarbog strode forward to stand in front of the Herndall. "I would face this _defiler_ ," he boomed. "My brother cannot be allowed to commit such a crime."

"You are her second opponent, Yarbog," the speaker of the ruling council intoned. "Prepare yourself."

Yarbog removed his topmost clothing and turned to face Willow. She remained where she was beside Varhog. Garzhvog signaled the start of their contest, and Yarbog hesitated, evidently expecting Willow to move away from the prone body on the ground. But she didn't.

Willow waited patiently, knowing she could bring Yarbog down as soon as he attacked. His instincts, speed, and strength, while impressive, were nothing next to Varhog's, who had such enhanced abilities as a Dragon Rider. Her strategy depended on staying right where she was.

Willow knew what she needed to do to goad him, so she did it. She smiled mockingly. "Afraid of me, are you?" Then she dared, "Come and get me!"

Yarbog bellowed in rage at her insolence and recklessly trundled forward. Willow neatly dodged him by stepping onto Varhog's back and ducking even lower because of her increased height. He staggered wildly as his feet ran into Varhog's body, which made her mount on his back as easy as if she were climbing onto a table. With his balance already so precarious, the weight of her body on his back drove him down to his hands and knees, and Yarbog fell exactly where she wanted him to over Varhog.

Yarbog gasped just as the wiry strength of her arms closed around his neck, which might have gained him a few added seconds of resistance had he not then immediately growled in frustration at how quickly Willow had assumed her position, exhaling all extra air from his lungs in the process.

Yarbog realized his mistake too late and when next he sucked in to replenish the lost air, he couldn't. He shuddered and rolled his shoulders to dislodge her, but Willow needed to make sure he collapsed right where he was so she threw every ounce of her willpower and determination into her grasp.

Yarbog made choking sounds as he struggled in vain to fill his lungs, and Willow felt his consciousness flicker then extinguish as he collapsed over his brother. She released her hold and stood up on his back, which made her almost as tall as Nar Garzhvog and, indeed, had been her plan all along.

"Let us end this!" she cried. "Select my third opponent and watch me bring him down just as effortlessly."

The Urgals all around were regarding Willow in amazed admiration. What they were witnessing was totally unprecedented.

Nar Garzhvog himself stepped forward to be considered, and the Herndall gave a collective nod of approval. He was their last and best chance of preventing what they still considered the worst possible fate for their esteemed Dragon Rider.

Garzhvog stripped down as the first two had and bellowed threateningly, starting the fight at that moment. He sprinted toward Willow, and she leaped from her perch with a wild yell, already knowing that he anticipated she would use it as the springboard to reach his high back in her only method for ensuring her success. She had to trick him.

Willow circled so he wouldn't catch her, and when he lunged, she dodged, moving far earlier than she would have with Varhog, since she had already calculated the extra length of his arms and body into her reaction. She continued circling, waiting for the perfect moment. He needed to be directly between her and the two unconscious bodies, with his back to them.

When Garzhvog was in the necessary position, and Willow ascertained through her senses that he was completely oblivious to his proximity to the bodies, she actually moved closer to _him,_ which clearly took him by surprise. He paused, puzzling over her advance. She couldn't have him moving away from the bodies at all if her plan was to work. She moved even closer, waiting for the moment she needed.

When Willow stepped yet once more closer, Garzhvog's eyes narrowed suspiciously. If he lunged at all, he would have her, but her steps had been so quick that he was still trying to understand her intentions. She allowed a faint, mocking smile to tug at her lips, remembering how Varhog had told her it would infuriate Garzhvog and make him rash.

Garzhvog tossed his head, snorting in fury, and Willow focused intently on his whole enormous body, absorbing every slight clue that he was preparing to move. When they started to rain on her mental awareness, she dove as his legs spread to lunge—his arms were _so_ far above her, posing no threat—and rolled right under him and between his legs, using her momentum to regain her feet. She jumped from Varhog's legs to Yarbog's back as if they were steps, twisting in the air to leap upon Garzhvog's back. A fierce cry burst from her throat as her hair whipped around and trailed out behind her.

Garzhvog was still in the process of completing his lunge when Willow was on him not three full seconds later, so he didn't lose his balance but instead absorbed the insignificant weight of her body into his knee. But Willow heard his incredulous grunt as her arms suddenly closed around his neck.

So swift was Willow's movement that the crowd barely had time to register her tactic before her arms were wrapped around Garzhvog's powerful neck and she was squeezing with every muscle of her entire body—her legs, back, and shoulders all working in perfect unison to lend her arms their strength.

Willow immediately felt the difference in the Kull warrior's thick neck. Though Varhog's overall strength matched his uncle's, Garzhvog's neck was necessarily stronger to support the extra weight of his massive head and even larger horns. He was weakening, but so much more slowly, and he raged around in the clearing, wildly throwing his body about. Garzhvog already seemed to know that he couldn't reach her, but he also apparently hoped that the sheer brute power of his efforts would dislodge her.

Willow made herself transfer the energy of every jolt into strengthening her hold. After seemingly endless minutes, when her muscles were trembling—though she did her best not to give it away—Garzhvog finally fell to his knees. But Willow knew it was far from over and that she couldn't hold on much longer.

 _Don't give up, Willow!_ she screamed at herself. _You're so close! This is your last chance to be with Varhog!_ She desperately reminded herself of his last words to her, _Fight for me, Willow. I love you,_ and knew she had to keep fighting.

A sudden shift in Garzhvog's upper back sparked a memory, which Willow's focused, unaffected brain immediately retrieved and brought to the forefront of her mind. He was about to strike her as Varhog had when he had broken both of her arms during their practice session. Thanks to that experience, Willow instantly knew what she had to do. Sensing the movement of Garzhvog's arm and hand through the rippling muscles on his back and shoulders, she prepared her defense. Right at the last possible moment—when Garzhvog least expected it and had no hope of altering the course of his hand—Willow released her arms straight away from each other, pushing herself back with her hands and knees and landing flat on her back.

Willow knew her evasion had worked when she heard a sickening crunch before she even hit the ground and saw Garzhvog's massive form—still as tall as she was when standing, though he was on his knees—begin a loose slump toward her body.

His huge fist had struck his own neck with the full force of his punch. What Garzhvog no doubt expected to be able to withstand—given that Willow's arms would have taken the brunt of the blow and his neck was so powerful—he actually took in undiluted potency. It was only thanks to the fact that his neck _was_ so strong that he was not immediately killed. As it was, the blow instantly crushed his windpipe and he fell completely slack, while his body began the appalling seizures Varhog's had under the same circumstances.

Willow was completely unharmed, and she rolled to the side in her final escape, springing to her feet in the same movement and sprinting toward Eragon. She could see that he hardly knew what to expect as she charged him, eyes blank and face determined. She wrenched Brisingr from its sheath at his belt, spun, and darted back to Garzhvog, knowing she had less than two minutes before he suffocated.

Willow sprang onto his chest as he convulsed, placing the tip of Brisingr at his mangled throat and jabbing it in enough to draw blood as she screamed, "I have defied and laid low your fiercest warrior, his brother, and your ferocious war chief! Is this enough, or must I lop off his head to demonstrate my might? I have proven my claim to have Varhog as my mate! Concede this point or watch Nar Garzhvog choke to death before your eyes! He will die within seconds if I don't heal him with magic."

Not many within the sound of her voice understood her words, but all understood her defiant tone. One of the Herndall, who understood enough of her words, frantically cried, "You win! Heal him now! You may join with Varhog with our blessing. None is more worthy than you."

Willow dropped at the first words, casting Brisingr to the side. She placed her hands at Garzhvog's mangled throat and anxiously muttered the words of healing. She was able to heal the crushed muscle and tissue more quickly than she had with Varhog, since she had that practice to draw from. Garzhvog writhed in agony, the choking sounds in his chest intensifying until at last the passageway was clear enough to allow air through. He gasped mightily, gulping in great lungsful of air. Willow kept her hands where they were, slowly feeding him energy so his body would recover more rapidly from its deprivation. As she weakened from the demands of the magic, she felt Sunset bolster her strength.

When she was sure Garzhvog would be fine, Willow looked straight into his eyes and softly whispered, "I'm so sorry." Then she stood and walked over to Varhog. She squatted and, with a monumental effort of her entire body—aided by the adrenaline still coursing through her veins—rolled Yarbog off of him. She knelt by Varhog's side, sat back on her heels, and bowed her head over his back to rest the side of her face between crossed arms. She searched for his beating heart and pressed her ear there, remaining thus until she felt him begin to stir.

When Willow finally left the detached mental state she entered into for fighting, tears came to her eyes as the potent emotions that had hovered just outside her awareness for _many_ tense minutes swarmed back into her mind. They spilled out of her eyes onto Varhog's bare skin. She barely noticed the bristles on his back poking her cheek, and her arms were protected by her leather coat.

 _I did it,_ she thought to Varhog. _You are_ mine! _And your people have given their approval of our union._ Willow wasn't sure he could hear her but she didn't care—she was saying it as much for herself as for him.

Since she was no longer in a heightened state of sensitivity and alertness, Willow was scarcely aware of what was going on around her. She felt Sunset's comforting presence and heard the steady beat of Varhog's heart. That was enough.

-:-:-

The other Riders and those who traveled with them stared in silent astonishment at what they had just witnessed Willow accomplish, having never seen such a deadly combination of calculation, precision, and execution. Her plan had been flawless in its devise and implementation. Three massive Urgal rams lay about her on the ground, completely at her mercy. She had brought them down with only the strength of her body and the ingenuity of her mind. _Nothing_ like that had ever before been done. And for what? So she could accomplish yet another impossible feat never before undertaken and marry an Urgal. And now she knelt tenderly by the side of the one she loved, wholly unafraid of showing her affection as she pressed herself against him, despite how strongly everyone had objected to them being together. They realized with reverenced awe just what kind of a person Willow was.

The Urgralgra who witnessed the fight felt similar shock and amazement, though their silence soon evolved into a noisy tribute. The laws of their culture demanded that they now recognize Willow as their war chief, since she had just defeated their own, all but killing him. He _would_ have died had she not saved him. Nar Garzhvog remained where he was on the ground, his humiliation complete, but also to surreptitiously observe Willow. She had demanded his attention in an unparalleled way, just as she had Varhog's after his first defeat.

The roars, bellows, and calls of admiration and allegiance began quietly, but before long the noise was thunderous as the Urgals stomped their feet and beat their chests. The din was soon loud enough that Varhog began to stir. He came back to himself slowly, apparently unaware of the light pressure Willow created on his back.

Willow felt Varhog moving and heard the change in his heartbeat where she was, and she again spoke to his mind. _I did it, Yelloweyes._ Her tone was weary, not as triumphant as one would expect, for she hadn't invited this trial, only endured it as a necessary obstacle to overcome to be with him. _You are mine, I am yours. We need no longer fear the displeasure of your clan._

-:-:-

Varhog pushed himself up, and Willow also raised her body. He assumed a kneeling position right in front of her, making sure their knees touched. She placed her hands on his thighs, and he covered them with his own. He glanced around himself and saw Yarbog within arm's reach and Garzhvog several feet away. Varhog noticed his uncle carefully observing them.

"You defeated Garzhvog," Varhog stated at the evidence clearly before him, his disbelief giving way to deep admiration. "I wish I could have seen that."

"He helped," Willow dismissed with a small smile as tears continued to stream down her face. " _You_ defeated him too."

The other Riders began a cautious approach. Firesword must have heard Varhog's quiet wish, for when he was close enough, he opened his mind to Varhog and replayed the entire fight as he had witnessed it. Varhog kept his eyes on Willow's as the images flashed through his head, muttering, "Slow down," at one point as his eyes narrowed in concentration. He became immobile as a statue and scoffed in deep disbelief—Firesword was showing him her confrontation with and attack of Garzhvog—shaking his head in irrepressible admiration bordering on gloating.

But Varhog couldn't suppress his bitterness as he commented, "You should have left him, not apologized." Then his eyes and face softened as Varhog witnessed Willow's final maneuver, which was to kneel by his side and bow over him.

Varhog was as speechless as the others had been.

Murtagh then said, "I'll show you too," and a second replay began in Varhog's mind from a slightly different angle. A small smile crossed Varhog's face at her taunt of his brother, which Murtagh had also found amusing. When Murtagh was finished, Arya repeated the gesture for Varhog, including Willow as well. Her perspective added even more to the import of Willow's accomplishment as her elven instincts betrayed their shock at Willow's lightning quick reflexes.

Varhog was completely stunned when Arya was done, and he stared at Willow. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. In a strained whisper he stammered, "You were. . . . _How. . ._ ? I . . . " He trailed off.

Willow laughed at his difficulty, clearly relieved it was all over. Apparently not caring at all what anyone else thought, she leaned forward, threw her arms around his neck, and squeezed herself tightly against him, also pulling her legs around his back so she was sitting astride his lap. Varhog reciprocated the embrace by tightly wrapping his arms around her back and shoulders, which forced the air out of her lungs. He buried his face in Willow's hair, slowly rocking her back and forth.

The Urgal crowd went deathly quiet at the open exchange of affection, and the sudden absence of noise was a drastic contrast to the previous ruckus. Nothing could have prepared them to see a human initiate such a gesture toward one of their own. The fighting—as deeply ingrained as it was—had been easy to accept, though Willow's victories were astonishing. But the affection was all but impossible for them to comprehend. No one could deny that Willow loved Varhog or that he loved her. Prejudices that had never before had cause to be challenged were now being openly thwarted.

After a very long while, during which the only movement was Varhog's rocking and stroking and the only sound came from Willow's quiet weeping into his shoulder, one of the Herndall spoke in a reverent whisper.

"What we have witnessed today lays the unyielding foundation on which we will build an entirely new future for our races, one where humans and Urgralgra may yet truly live in peace, or even more, as has been so poignantly demonstrated by this noble couple. Dragon Rider Varhog, we seek your pardon for doubting the worth of this woman and the soundness of your judgment in questioning your choice of a mate. We now see that none could be more worthy of your heart and your loyalty. Thank you for allowing us to see what we were blind to before."

Varhog lifted his head only enough to say, "You have my forgiveness and my appreciation. This woman—our union—will bring no shame to our people. Now you will have the joy of coming to know her as I have." He then pulled back a little more, as did Willow, though he kept his face dangerously close to hers. He gently wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.

"You are the most amazing woman I have ever known. Thank you—" his voice caught, then he finished, "Thank you for doing that for me."

Willow gazed at him fervently, and Varhog saw in her eyes that this was still not the moment she longed for. Finally she murmured, "You're worth it." Then she abruptly blinked and squeezed her eyes shut. Clenching her jaw and inhaling deeply through flared nostrils, she muttered, "When will the ceremony take place? I can't bear this any longer."

"As soon as you want," Varhog said.

" _Now,_ then." Willow grabbed the bottom curl of his horns in either of her hands and put her mouth next to his ear beyond one open loop. Almost inaudibly, she breathed, "I want you so badly, Yelloweyes. I'm burning for you."

Varhog's whole body tensed. He hadn't expected that at this moment, but then he thought back to how he felt after facing all those foes and understood.

"I need to get dressed," he growled. "Walk with me." He stood as easily as if Willow hadn't been wrapped around him, and she immediately slid her legs to the ground. He grabbed one of her hands, and they swiftly walked to where his clothes were. He kept her slightly in front of his body as a shield between himself and the Urgralgra and hastily dressed.

Then Varhog took her in his arms and held her, muttering, "Would you stay here a moment? I need to relax."

Holding Willow next to him wasn't a very effective method of calming down, but Varhog couldn't think of another way to hide the extent of his arousal, and he didn't want anyone else noticing, especially not his mother.

He let out a sound of exasperated amusement as he rested his face on her head. "Don't say things like that to me, Eartheyes. Not yet. Can't you feel how they affect me?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I _can_ feel that. I'm sorry, Varhog. That would have been a good time _not_ to speak my mind." She held very still, seeming to know that if she mirrored his touch in any way, it would only be harder for him.

Varhog barked a short laugh. "Aye. I always feel it, but when you say _you_ do, it makes me wild." He was quiet for a long while, concentrating on breathing in and out slowly and deeply. To help distract himself, he casually said, "I'm sorry for that awful smell. I'm sure you noticed how sweaty I was after fighting everyone."

"I did, but I'm not going to tell you what I think about the way you smell. It wouldn't help matters right now."

"You _don't_ think I smell disgusting?"

"No, Yelloweyes."

Varhog shook his head in confusion but said no more. At length, he regained control and stepped back, keeping hold of her shoulders. "There. Tonight, Willow. We only need wait until tonight. _Then_ whisper that in my ear and we will do what feels natural, what we both long for." The yearning he had just worked so intently to subdue began clenching his gut again when he recognized how much she wanted to kiss him. But she seemed to see his struggle, so she lowered her face and waited until he released his hold enough for her to move back.

"I will," Willow vowed, staring at the ground

As they walked back to the others, Varhog took her hand once more. Garzhvog had finally sat up, and once Willow and Varhog returned to the group of Riders—who had been quietly conversing in their brief absence—he stood. He cocked his head from side to side to stretch his neck, which appeared to be perfectly recovered. He faced Willow as she stopped by Varhog's side, bashing his fists to his forehead.

Varhog felt Willow jump slightly as Garzhvog said, "Nar Willow, you have my apologies. You have defeated me, the war chief of the Bolvek tribe, in single combat. You are now worthy to bear the title."

Willow laughed at Garzhvog, which surprised him. Varhog smiled—another surprise to Garzhvog—both at the sound of her laugh and his uncle's reaction, seeing something of his initial response to Willow in it. But he was so used to her now that he forgot how unique she was and how unsettling it was for one of his own kind.

"Varhog defeated you first," Willow dismissed. "He should be war chief." Then she giggled. "Can you imagine me as war chief of a clan of Urgals?"

Varhog chuckled. "We _all_ can, Willow. You just took down the three strongest, most skilled warriors in our tribe. Our fighting rams would follow you anywhere."

Garzhvog nodded his solemn agreement. "Varhog forced me into submission, but you killed me, Willow. I would have died had you not saved me. So not only are you my superior but also my savior. I am forever indebted to you."

"Nonsense!" Willow cried. "You owe me nothing! I'm not a killer, Nar Garzhvog. You struck the crippling blow. I just got out of the way in time and wouldn't stand by to watch you die. I didn't fight you to unseat you as war chief, but to prove myself worthy of this ram and to win the approval of your clan. I would not come between him and his people, so it had to be done to avoid even less pleasant consequences. Besides, if I hadn't anticipated that you were about to strike me, you would have won. I was already tiring and with shattered arms, you would have easily escaped and smashed me to bits."

She paused and laughed again. "I decline," she insisted. "You may keep your title, Nar Garzhvog. You are worthy of it."

Garzhvog stared at her in amazement, the faintest trace of amusement playing around the corners of his eyes and mouth at her easy laugh. Varhog once again felt a sense of recognition. This must have been exactly how he looked when he first met Willow.

"You are . . . _unusual_ , Nar Willow," Garzhvog slowly said. "I have never met a human like you, and I'm ashamed that I judged you so hastily. You are more than worthy of Varhog, though I begin to suspect that it might be the other way around and that he should have to prove himself worthy of _you_."

He glanced at Varhog, who nodded in fervent agreement. "How _did_ you know I was going to strike like that?" Garzhvog curiously asked, looking back at Willow.

Willow shrugged. "I made Varhog practice it with me. He didn't want to, but at my request, he did anyway. It broke my arms and crushed his airway. We obviously healed each other with magic. I felt the same movements in your shoulders and back, which triggered the memory and gave me enough time to prepare. I knew I would never withstand the blow so I evaded it. My one great strength is that I know how to get out of the way."

Garzhvog shook his head in admiration. "I have never seen the likes of it. I won't be so confident of my invincibility again. You have chosen well, nephew," he said to Varhog, "and have brought pride and honor to your clan. When would you enter into your union with this woman?"

"Even now, uncle," Varhog answered. "Feast and celebration or not, we wish it to be today."

"So it shall," Garzhvog replied with a strange look of pain, which Varhog guessed might be the result of thinking about his own mate, who had been killed at Galbatorix's hand. No wonder he hated humans so much and had reacted so strongly to Willow.

Garzhvog finished, "A feast and celebration have already been prepared for your arrival. Now we have even more reason to engage in them."


	16. Mother

**16\. Mother**

All present began to make their way back to the village. The Urgals regarded Willow with cautious admiration, moving around her and Varhog at a deferent distance, though she wished they wouldn't. Varhog never released her hand, which gratified her.

As they walked, Willow asked, "Was that your mother? The female you greeted after Yarbog?"

"Yes," Varhog said.

"May I meet her?" Willow hopefully requested. "My mother died when I was five, as you know. Your mother would be my mother-in-law according to human customs. How do Urgals view such things?"

"The sire and dam of one's mate become even as their own, thereby giving them two sets of parents, as it were."

"Really? How lovely!" Willow gushed before adding in concern, "But what will she think of me? I mean, it takes some people longer than five minutes to overcome generations' worth of hate and bias."

"Aye," Varhog said with love in his eyes as he looked down at her. "And it takes exactly one person to win the heart of everyone she meets with her complete _lack_ of hate and bias. She will love you, Willow, as I do, if not more in her way for bringing me the happiness you have. Such is the nature of a good mother, and she is the best."

Willow was touched by the way Varhog spoke of his mother with such praise and tenderness. He then said, "I suppose I'm lucky I was the first Urgal ram you ever met. All would have undoubtedly come to have feelings for you. Your pull is irresistible, your courage and strength so admirable."

Willow smiled skeptically. "No, surely not! You are unique in your own right, at least in my eyes, though I have few to compare you with. Grintuk, really. And now Garzhvog. I like you best. And I only came to have this admirable strength because of your patient instruction and encouragement." She gave him a warm smile, which he returned, the tender look in his eyes deepening.

When Varhog said no more, Willow impatiently pressed, "Well? Can I meet her, then? Your mother? I mean now?"

Varhog's deep chuckle vibrated through her where their arms were touching. "Yes, I suppose she is also anxious to meet you." He guided Willow in the right direction, and the crowd parted for them unbidden. He quickly reached his mother's side and bowed to her in a greeting Willow had not yet witnessed, placing the hand not holding Willow's on her arm. "Mother," he said with deep love, "I want you to meet Willow, my chosen mate. She was anxious to be introduced."

The noble Urgal calmly looked at Willow, an indecipherable expression in her eyes. She was taller than Willow by many inches, perhaps just a handful shy of Varhog's height, though she was slenderer. Her hair was graying but still thick and shining. She was strong and proud. Willow recognized many of Varhog's features as gifts from his mother—his straight nose, full mouth, and wavy hair. She was performing a similar exam of Willow. Unsure what the proper greeting was in this instance, Willow remained silent and held her chin up in friendship to Varhog's mother, which was necessary to look at her anyway.

Finally the woman spoke in a deep, melodic tone with a comfortable command of the common tongue. "Willow." Her voice was warm, and there were creases around her eyes, evidence of many years of deep joy and pain. "My surprise was great when my son announced his desire to have you as his mate, but I didn't feel as my brother. I know the heart of my son and that he wouldn't bestow his affection on one unworthy to receive it. I knew you must have earned his regard and you have proven it is so. He could not have chosen a nobler woman, and I welcome you to our family."

Tears sprang to Willow's eyes. She blinked in surprise at the deep emotions running through her. It already felt like this Urgal was a mother to her, and she hadn't felt a mother's love in so many years. She clasped her hands together and bounced on her toes, anxiously thinking to Varhog, _Can I hug her? That is what I long to do, but I don't want to cause offense._

The deep love in Varhog's thoughts was what she thought she had heard when he addressed his mother. _Be yourself, Willow,_ he encouraged. _I'm interested to see what she does._

Willow needed no further prompting. She stepped forward, slipping her arms around Varhog's mother and pressing her face against her in a fervent embrace.

"Thank you," Willow whispered. "That means so much to me, I can't even tell you. My own mother died when I was five, and I haven't felt the way I just now felt for so long that I had forgotten how much I even missed it. When Varhog told me you would be like a mother to me once he and I marry, it filled my heart with joy. Thank you for your amazing son. I'm so honored he wants me, and I will always strive to be worthy of him."

At Willow's equally touching speech, Varhog's mother displayed similarly unexpected emotions. She put her arms around Willow from where they had initially stayed by her side and began stroking her hair in a blissfully tender expression. Willow felt like she was five again and snuggled in the protective circle of her mother's arms. The women stayed like that for some time, and it filled an empty part of Willow's soul with such warmth that she radiated it by the time Varhog's mother slowly dropped her hands.

Willow stepped back, simply glowing with happiness.

Varhog's mother spoke to him. "She is so warm and vibrant, son," she approved, identifying some of the same characteristics that had first impressed Varhog. "She is strong and brave, open and honest. I will come to find her as beautiful as I know you do. You will be very happy together, and she will give you many fine children. You have chosen well."

Varhog released Willow's hand so he could clasp his mother's in both of his own. "Thank you, mother. I'm glad you approve. She is the most amazing woman I have ever known after you. You will see what I mean."

Varhog's mother regarded him with pride and adoration. "I missed you, my son, all those years you were gone. My life is full of children and grandchildren, but my heart always felt an empty ache and wished you could be here. I am glad you have visited, that you are so grown and improved, and that you will now enter into the greatest happiness you will ever know of being the mate of a noble female and the sire of joyful children."

Willow's surprise at this second mention of children was the same as it had been at the first. Varhog's mother seemed so certain. Willow was also amazed at the deep sense of family the Urgals had. They seemed to view it as the greatest accomplishment and happiness one could achieve. She found herself loving Varhog's people more and more with every new thing she learned about them.

Varhog took Willow's hand again, and Willow took his mother's hand, standing between them. They started walking again, and Willow asked, "How are your children doing . . . um, ma'am?"

Varhog's mother smiled. "My name is Myrintuk, though you may call me mother if it pleases you. It would please me. You may have noticed that my brother, Garzhvog—though he is actually the birth brother of my deceased mate—and my sons Yarbog and Varhog all have names ending with 'og'. We Urgralgra sometimes do this to show family ties. My mate's name was also Yarbog. Our eldest son bears his sire's name. You may recognize in my name an ending found in the other Urgal Dragon Rider's name, even 'tuk'. I'm from a different clan by birth—the Delvhtuk clan of Anghelm—which is the same as Grintuk's. That my mate and I joined was an uncommon thing. There is often fierce enmity between Urgralgra clans. My rebellion in joining with someone my clan didn't approve of must be something that can be passed to the next generation, as Varhog appears to have inherited it." Varhog smiled at his mother over Willow's head, but Willow glanced up and saw it.

Myrintuk continued, "Of course, not all members of a clan have names with the same ending, but if they do, it's often an indication of clan or family ties." She paused. "I'm sorry. I never answered your question, did I? And here I have been giving you a boring lesson in Urgralgra naming traditions."

"No," Willow protested, squeezing her hand. "It's not boring at all! Tell me anything you want about your ways, mother!" Her smile at being able to say "mother" was radiant. "I would love to learn as much as I can. I must know if I'm to teach them to our children." This she said with another delighted smile. "You seem very sure such a thing will be. Why is that?"

Myrintuk smiled warmly, giving Varhog a charmed look over Willow's head. Willow could see that Varhog couldn't have prepared for how quickly she was working her mysterious magic on his mother.

"I just feel it," Myrintuk said in reply. "Though there is no evidence from previous experience, since you and Varhog are the first Urgal and human couple to form, it seems that offspring from such a union would be possible. You are tall and strong for a human and would be able to bear an Urgralgra cub with no difficulty. They are not so much larger than a human cub, I would imagine, and our horns don't begin to grow until early adolescence. Although I do wonder if your children would grow horns, with you as their mother. Only time will tell, I suppose. They will be some beautiful combination of the two of you, that much is certain."

"Why do you call them cubs?" Willow wondered. "Those in this crowd don't appear much different from human children."

"Simply a term that hearkens to our somewhat more animalistic appearance, even as ram."

"I see. I'm thrilled at the thought of being a mother and having Varhog's children. Firesword's mate, Arya, is with child, and we thought it would be wonderful to have children close together so they could be friends and we could be new mothers together. Though I suppose we must often bring them here to meet their grandmother, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Do you say 'grandmother' and the other terms the same as humans?"

"Yes, or granddam or grandsire. But both work, and the others are the same."

Willow's eyes saddened somewhat. "I'm sorry about the passing of your mate, though I don't know if such condolences are appreciated by the Urgralgra. From what little Varhog has told me, he was proud, brave, and fierce and devotedly loyal to you and your family, which isn't hard for me to imagine, given how like Varhog that is. He must have had a great example in his sire."

Myrintuk's eyes grew misty. "Condolences are not as often expressed, but they are nonetheless appreciated. To die in battle is the most honorable death for an Urgralgra ram, especially if in the defense of his family. But knowing that his passing was honorable does nothing to lessen the pain of his absence. Yarbog was a loyal and loving mate, a wise and caring sire. I loved him, and I miss him. That our sons have grown to be as he was is the greatest honor they could show me. Though the two you have met are not Kull, as was my mate Yarbog, I see in them their sire and know he too would be proud.

"When we learned of Galbatorix's treachery and coercion, all of the women who lost their mates were furious beyond imagining, especially once it became clear that his intention was to kill off the rams so he could more easily sweep through our villages and destroy the innocent women and children. Many of the widows joined the ranks of the fighting rams, bent on vengeance. Many of our sons also went to war to defeat the king. Lady Nightstalker and Firesword are the most highly honored humans among the Urgralgra for their roles in defying and defeating the lack-horned betrayer. I'm sure you will soon be esteemed as greatly, as mate of our first Dragon Rider." She fell silent.

"Varhog has told me of his large family and that he has seven siblings. I've always been slightly envious, since my younger brother died when I was ten."

"Your mother and brother have died?" Myrintuk asked. "What about your sire?"

"He died when I was fifteen. One death every five years of my life. It was awful. But Varhog and I became friends right away when I went to the Isle. I may not have told him this, but I believe he saved my life. I felt little desire to live at the time. Even my bond with Sunset—my dragon—as new as it was, wasn't enough to draw me out of the deep depression and loneliness I felt. But we needn't dwell on that right now. How are your children and grandchildren doing? Right before we left the Isle, Varhog mentioned that he hadn't spoken with you in some time. Has Myrin had her cub yet?"

"No, not yet," Myrintuk replied, clearly surprised that Willow was so knowledgeable. "She is due any day. She is most anxious to see Varhog again, though she didn't leave the village to come out here because of how far along she is. It's uncomfortable to stand for long periods, though no one would have expected all of the fighting we witnessed. I worry about her reaction to you. She and Varhog were the closest, and the instinctive response of any of our race to what you intend is shock and outrage."

Willow looked anxious. "Oh dear. I suppose this is something we will face for a long time yet, if not forevermore, isn't it, Yelloweyes? You feared as much, which is why you delayed in expressing your feelings to me."

Before Varhog could reply, his mother asked in a mildly affronted manner, "Yelloweyes? What does this mean?"

Varhog explained, "When Willow first came to the Isle, Firesword introduced her to everyone. I was the last one in line and everyone wandered off—no one was particularly impressed with Willow. Before Firesword could even say anything, she immediately touched one of my horns. She was shorter and thinner then and seemed so frail, but she was totally fearless. Her curiosity was so innocent and pure. She asked if I could feel it, and I said no. Then she told me she had never met an Urgal and asked why my skin was gray and my eyes yellow. She was so wholly unlike anyone I had ever met, and I soon remembered that I had seen her once before, after the Varden took Feinster. Though it lasted only a moment, we each remembered the brief glance because of how she smiled at me. She must have been only twelve or so, but she stared straight at me with no fear and smiled as broadly as she could.

"The first thing I noticed about her besides her smile, mother, was how warm and vibrant her eyes and hair were. They reminded me of rich earth ready to grow something. I told her as much, for her honesty inspired a similar response from me, which was surprising. She suggested I call her 'Eartheyes,' and though she was only teasing—to think, a small human girl teasing an enormous, intimidating Urgal ram she had only just met—the idea instantly appealed to me. I loved her eyes from the very beginning. In them I could see that she didn't see me as a monster, that she accepted me as a person, and that she was open to being my friend. So I offered in return that if Willow would allow me to call her Eartheyes, she could call me 'Yelloweyes,' since she had noticed them right off. She accepted but worried it might offend me. I assured her it wouldn't. I had been called far worse things by the dwarven Rider, Knilf, whom I still despised and he me. Ever since then, those have been our nicknames for one another. Little did she know that every time I called her Eartheyes, I was telling her how much I cared for her in my secret way."

"I thought you didn't come to realize your feelings until sometime later," Willow interrupted. "Didn't they start to appear after I first defeated you?"

"That was the most defining moment, but they were there before, if I'm honest with myself, which I know you would expect. Even Firesword and Murtagh still held biases toward my race when they first met me, though they overcame them in time. No human, Willow, _not one,_ has ever met an Urgal and accepted him like you did me without any prejudice, fear, or expectation of violence. I have come to see that it was enough to immediately intrigue me, especially when I realized you were the same human girl I had seen in Feinster and thought about curiously nearly every day after. In retrospect, it seems we were supposed to meet. And when you just continued to grow and amaze me in every single thing you did, the feelings only deepened. When you defeated me, my humiliation was complete but so too was my irrevocable regard for you."

Myrintuk said, "It is lovely to hear these things, my son. I feel I can understand something of what you went through at that time. This woman you have chosen is as a breath of fresh air on the old, stale enmity between our races."

Varhog nodded, continuing, "To answer your question, Willow, I do believe we will always face surprise and disapproval when people unacquainted with our history learn about our relationship. I'll never let any harm come to you from it."

"I know, sweetheart," she said. "I'm so excited to finally meet your family! One of my wishes—or another of them, since my first was that I would marry you—will come true today. Let me see how well I can remember their names. Yarbog, Myrin, Nay . . . oh dear. Is that how it starts?"

"Aye, Eartheyes. Naynuk." He smiled at her.

"Naynuk," she repeated. "The next is a brother, and his name starts with a 'B', but I can't remember it. I know the youngest sister is Breetuk, and I'm sure you have told me the names of the other brother and sister, but I can't seem to remember them right now."

A _very_ tall young female walking behind them suddenly spoke up. "I'm Breetuk," she said. "I'm not surprised that Varhog rarely mentioned those other two. I always _was_ his favorite." She giggled.

Willow stopped and turned when she heard the voice behind her. "Breetuk! I'm so happy to meet you! You must be Kull." Willow laughed. "That was a really obvious statement. Varhog is already so much taller than I am that it always takes me by surprise to meet someone even taller than he. You must be only a few inches shorter than Grintuk."

"Grintuk?" Breetuk wondered. "Oh, yes. The other Urgal Dragon Rider. He's Kull. I had nearly forgotten." She smiled when Willow gave her a cheerful embrace. "I'm happy to meet you too, Willow. That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen back there. Never thought I'd see someone take down Uncle Garzhvog. Yvenna couldn't believe it."

"Yvenna?" Willow repeated.

"Oh, sorry. Yvenna's our cousin, Garzhvog's only daughter."

"I see," Willow replied. Before she could greet the other two young adult Urgals standing beside Breetuk, Varhog moved over to Breetuk and swept her into a tight embrace.

"Bree!" Varhog exclaimed. "I grew five inches in my time away, but you must have grown nearly two feet. Look how much taller you are than I! Nearly eight inches!"

"I know!" Breetuk agreed. "Thanks to father, no doubt. I missed you so much, Varhog," she fervently added, squeezing her older brother as tightly as she could. "I never understood why you couldn't come back for a visit, but I'm so glad you're here now!"

Varhog laughed. "Here's the reason," he said, stepping away from Breetuk and putting his arm around Willow's shoulders. "She obviously never forced me to stay away, but I didn't want to leave her there."

Willow smiled up at Varhog, and he leaned down to kiss the top of her head. Then Willow turned her attention to the female and male Urgals next to Breetuk, immediately noticing the resemblance between the ram and Varhog. He grinned at her when she studied him a moment, and Willow returned the smile.

"You look exactly like Varhog," she commented.

"No!" he teasingly replied. "I'm far handsomer."

Willow giggled. "You know I would never agree to that. You must be the youngest brother. I'm sorry I don't remember your name."

"I'm Raygog," he replied, bashing his fists to his forehead.

Willow started slightly when he bashed his forehead, then she laughed, exactly as she had when Garzhvog had paid her the same tribute. "Well, thank you for not butting heads with me. It's nice to meet you, Raygog. I'm afraid the customary human greetings might not be to your liking. A hand shake? Or a hug?"

Raygog answered her by crushing her into a tight embrace. "I'll take a hug any day from the woman who can subdue the two strongest rams I know," he said, releasing her quickly at Varhog's warning look but grinning nonetheless. "So Varhog never mentioned me, then? I guess I never was much more than a punching bag to him."

Willow giggled again, and Varhog chortled. "That's what younger brothers are good for," he joked.

"So I've heard," Raygog ruefully said. "But I wouldn't know. I never had a younger brother to pick on and father wouldn't let me bother Trayin or Bree. Finally taking a mate then, old ram? I guess there's hope for anyone, even those as ugly as you." He snickered, trying to duck away from Varhog's one-armed stranglehold but not even coming close to dodging him.

Varhog only mussed his hair before quickly releasing him with a good-natured laugh. "I can see how jealous you are, Raygog. For Willow, I would have waited another hundred years, and we will both live far longer than that, so it's no exaggeration. And I mentioned you all. Willow is exceedingly curious. I simply haven't spoken your name recently, so she didn't remember."

"You would have once pounded me into the ground for a comment like that," Raygog observed in surprise. "Can I thank your training as a Dragon Rider or Willow's calming influence?"

"Both," Varhog replied. "Aren't you old enough to think about taking a mate now, Raygog? I would guess you're not as solitary as I was."

"No. You still hold that record, brother." A strange yearning look crossed Raygog's face. "I doubt I will be taking a mate anytime soon, Varhog." He quickly changed the subject. "Willow, let's not leave out our other youngest sister. This is Trayin." Raygog put his arm around the shoulders of the female standing between him and Breetuk.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Trayin," Willow sincerely said. "I'm so thrilled to be joining such a large family!" She gave Trayin an embrace but quickly dropped her arms when Trayin seemed reluctant to reciprocate.

"Sorry," Willow apologized. "I forget that such greetings are more customary between humans who are good friends. Here I am a human you have only just met, and that after learning I was the reason Varhog remained away for nearly ten years."

Varhog shook his head at Willow's remorseful manner. "Don't apologize, Willow. You aren't to blame. I chose to stay away. First because I didn't want to leave you alone when our friendship seemed so important to you. Then, in time, I wanted to bring you with me, but I worried that my family and people might not accept you. I'm sorry, Trayin. This must be a lot to accept after such a long absence. Can you forgive me?"

Trayin stepped forward and put one arm around his waist. "Yes, Varhog," she softly replied. "It was hard having you away so long, mostly because of how sad it made mother on top of already missing father. And we heard so little from you. We were dreadfully curious about your adventures and experiences as a Dragon Rider. Seeing Willow fight—especially Uncle Garzhvog—has had the same immediate effect on all of us that it must have had on you, but those who weren't here to witness that will have a really hard time accepting her, just as you worried. I'm thinking most specifically of Myrin, like mother said."

Varhog nodded sadly. "I fear you are right, Trayin. I hope in time you will all come to realize how unique and wonderful Willow is. If that takes some longer than others, I will accept full responsibility and insist their anger be directed toward me, not Willow."

Trayin then turned her attention to Willow. "I'm sorry if I seemed rude. I've always been shyer than Raygog and Bree. I _am_ glad to meet you, Willow. Though it's strange to think of having a human for a sister, after seeing the way you can fight, it is also an honor."

"I appreciate that, though it must be hard for you to say," Willow said. "And I understand your sadness that Varhog stayed on the Isle all these years. I never meant to keep him away for so long. I honestly didn't know he loved me until about a month ago, nor did I even suspect such a thing until about a month before that. I also often wondered why he never returned home. As soon as I learned what a large family he has, I constantly begged to hear about what his life was like."

Willow looked up into the faces of the four tall Urgals in front of her, then turned her eyes to meet Varhog's grave expression. Wishing to lighten the mood, Willow commented, "I feel so short." Raygog, Trayin, and Myrintuk were all roughly the same height—about six inches taller than Willow—while Breetuk was far taller than any of them. "I suppose this is how the dwarves must always feel, don't you think, Yelloweyes? Although I guess you wouldn't understand."

Varhog smiled. "They probably do," he agreed. Apparently he also hoped to further move the conversation away from hard feelings toward Willow, for he then asked, "So how many nieces and nephews do we now have?"

Myrintuk, who had been observing her children carrying on—first with amusement, then in concern—answered, "Twelve. They are lively and happy and strong. They're _so_ excited to meet their famous uncle and also long to see a dragon. Now they will be able to meet five."

Varhog grinned. "I'll take them all for their own ride. This news makes me happy indeed, mother. Willow and I will be delighted to add to your growing brood of grandchildren."

Willow agreed, "Yes, and I can't wait to meet the children! Let me try naming your siblings again. Yarbog—"

She stopped as Raygog snorted. "He'll not soon forget how you taunted him and how quickly you bested him," he said with a triumphant grin. "Nothing makes a tormented younger brother happier than seeing his tormentors put in their place. And by a _female human,_ no less! I'm sure you could also bring down Bruntog without a problem, though he is Kull. But he's not as strong or tall as our uncle. Yarbog was once a better fighter than you, Varhog."

"Aye," Varhog agreed. "Things have changed, haven't they? Not that he had much hope. My bond with Black Thunder gives me much of my current advantage, and it's also the reason I grew so much after leaving. But for me to bring home a human female who can also best him? I'm sure that borders on unforgiveable." He turned to Willow to indicate that she should continue.

"After you is Myrin, then Naynuk. Then Bruntog, was it?" Varhog nodded. "And Raygog, Trayin, and Breetuk, of course."

"You can call me Bree," Breetuk said.

"Thank you!" Willow exclaimed with a bright smile. She looked around herself and realized they had finally arrived in the village, well hidden some distance into the trees.


	17. An Urgal Ritual

**17\. An Urgal Ritual**

It was much like Varhog had described—a rural human village—though it was bigger than the others in their party had expected. Willow had assumed from the size of the crowd that everyone had come to greet them, but she saw that she was mistaken. Many females had remained behind and were busy putting the final preparations in place for the feast Garzhvog had mentioned. Children darted about playing chase and hiding between the rows of rough tables and benches that had been dragged together in the large open area that must have been the village square.

Willow smiled at how casual and inviting it was. Most of the Urgals who had been present at the arrival of the dragons or who had come in time to witness Varhog and Willow's fighting milled about in confusion, waiting to hear what would happen next.

The member of the Herndall who had done most of the speaking in the field attempted to speak once again. Garzhvog bellowed to call for quiet, and Varhog translated in the minds of those who didn't understand.

The elderly dam then said, "We thank those who stayed behind and helped in the preparation of this magnificent feast, of which we will partake in but a moment. First we have a momentous occasion to witness, even the joining of our honored Dragon Rider Varhog with his chosen mate, also a Dragon Rider, the human Willow."

Those who had remained behind displayed their astonishment at her words, their eyes searching the crowd for Varhog and Willow. But since everyone else seemed unsurprised, they made no objections.

There was still a small space around Willow, Varhog, and his mother and siblings. His mother and those nearest her stepped back as all twelve members of the Herndall gathered around Varhog and Willow. In their right hands they held their carved sticks, and each member of the Herndall reached her left hand out to grasp the staff of her neighbor, thereby forming a circle with their arms and bodies. The elderly dams took up a unified chant while the speaker spoke for several minutes in Urgralish. Varhog didn't translate for Willow, he simply held her hands as he faced her, staring solemnly into her eyes. Though she didn't understand the words of this ceremony, Willow understood from the look in Varhog's eyes that they meant she was now being bound to him and he to her, according to the customs of his race.

When the dam stopped speaking, Varhog quietly said, "I promise to always fight for you and protect you, Eartheyes. You're my best friend and the love of my heart. Thank you for accepting me as your mate and showing me what it truly means to love another despite our differences. I will always be yours." He raised both of her hands and kissed the backs of them, each in turn.

Her eyes filled with tears, and Willow knew she wouldn't be able to say much before becoming emotional, so she simply said, "I love you, Yelloweyes. Thank you for helping me realize how strong and special I am. Thank you for giving me a husband and a family all at once. I'm so excited for our life together. I will always be yours." Her tears spilled onto her cheeks as she repeated his gesture of kissing the backs of his hands.

Willow thought Varhog's eyes looked full, but no tears appeared as the old dam spoke another few lines. When she fell silent, Varhog enfolded Willow in his arms as the crowd around started cheering. She felt his deep voice in his chest almost as much as she heard it when Varhog said, "It is done. We are now joined according to the customs of my race."

"Ram and wife at last," Willow murmured with a teasing smile, tilting her chin up to look at him. "And to think I've become so impatient for this time when I came to realize my feelings barely two months ago. Now what?"

"Now let's eat. I'm ravenous," Varhog said, a hungry glint in his eye. "Fighting almost my whole village has left me with a burning hunger."

"There will be time to satisfy the other hunger soon enough," Willow reassured him, but the look in his eye kindled the now all-too-familiar fluttering in her gut. He nodded and turned to the crowd, shouting something in Urgralish. The cheering intensified as the crowd broke to make its way to the tables.

A place of honor was set for Varhog at the head of the front table. He led Willow there and helped her sit in the chair meant for him, as Eragon and Murtagh had both done with their new wives. The other Riders, Nasuada, and Angela followed him and sat on the nearest benches as Varhog took a seat on the bench to Willow's right.

Varhog ate as ravenously as he implied he would. The others also ate with great focus, the stress of the morning somehow increasing their appetites.

Once Varhog had slowed enough that he was able to converse, Willow told him, "You truly were magnificent this morning, Yelloweyes." The others nodded their fervent agreement. "I couldn't help but feel a sense of gloating, as unbecoming as that sounds. To watch you take down everyone who stood against you reminded me what a formidable foe you are. I have no idea how _I_ manage to defeat you."

"I would fight twice as many for you, Eartheyes," Varhog replied. "The only reason I prevailed is because I fought them one after the other. Even I couldn't stand against nearly a hundred Urgals by myself, unarmed. But I'd go down trying to protect you."

She touched his hand and smiled. "That's sweet, but please don't. I wouldn't like to lose you so soon."

Varhog returned her smile, turning his hand so he could hold hers. "I think all would agree that _you_ were the true marvel today. I've never seen such fighting. Your plan was perfect down to the last detail. Watching it three times from the perspectives of those who witnessed it makes me confident in saying I've never heard of nor seen such precision and calculation."

Willow lowered her eyes at Varhog's praise and that of the others, who were all uttering their enthusiastic support. Now that they were distanced from the fights both in time and space, they could talk of what had happened more freely.

"I almost lost," Willow whispered. "My arms were so close to giving out. Garzhvog's neck is so strong. I kept repeating your last words and told myself I had to keep fighting. I'm so glad you practiced that move with me in Ilirea. If I hadn't recognized what he was about to do, the outcome would have been completely different. We might not be together now."

Eragon interjected, "Willow, not even Arya or I could foresee your intentions or follow your movements. I've never seen anything like that. The fighting was immeasurably tense for all of us Riders. Everything you did was so improbable and yet so masterfully executed—from each calculated action that led to your improvised steps and sudden dive between Nar Garzhvog's legs—that I actually laughed in amazement, which was completely unexpected at that moment, since you were on Garzhvog's back by then."

"Thank you, Eragon," Willow said. "That means a lot. I must have been inspired to some unknown greatness by the gravity of the situation. I knew if I failed, I would lose the chance to be with Varhog."

"Don't dwell on it, Eartheyes," Varhog insisted. "You triumphed. You were amazing. We're together. That's all that matters. But your fame is growing by the minute. There has been talk of little else since it happened. Not all were there and of those who were, not all could see. They will want to witness your fighting abilities. Most won't believe you truly bested me until they see it for themselves."

"No," Willow pleaded. "I'm done making war, remember?" He smiled as if that were an inside joke. "If we fight again, I'll let you catch me so I can be pinned in your arms." They all laughed.

"Just once more then," Varhog compromised. "After that, I'll be glad to catch you as often as you let me."

Willow sighed in submission, adding one last stipulation, "I won't hold on until you go unconscious though, no matter what you say." Varhog nodded his assent.

Arya asked, "What words did Varhog say, Willow? The ones you reminded yourself of? I don't remember him speaking."

"Right before he lost consciousness, Varhog said in my mind, 'Fight for me, Willow. I love you,'" Willow answered.

Arya seemed touched, as did the others. "You two have had to fight harder and overcome more than any of us to be together," she said. "And that's saying something. We Riders really know how to make love difficult."

"But you and Eragon had to wait so long," Willow disagreed. "And Murtagh and Nasuada. From the time I knew I loved Varhog until now has only been about two months."

"From the time I knew I loved Eragon until the time I was his wife was only about a month," Arya countered. "Although I loved him much longer and just never admitted it to myself. In our case, he was more patient, though I don't know if I can say he was the most miserable. I'm sure you were aware of his strange condition of being wretchedly hot all the time. Did you know I had the exact opposite condition? All ten years we were apart, I was increasingly and unbearably cold. Fírnen couldn't warm me. The sun couldn't. Exercise only made it worse. Warm water did nothing. The only thing that did was thinking Eragon's true name, which clearly reveals his feelings for me, but that only fleetingly." She absently fingered her wedding band. "The moment his arms were around me, I felt a blessedly welcome warmth fill my empty soul. Actually, it started as soon as he said my name. We needed each other to find balance and healing. It's beautiful what love does when it brings two people together."

Willow's eyes once again watered, and she saw that Eragon's also shimmered as tears threatened. "I didn't know that," Willow whispered.

"Nor I," Nasuada added.

"Love has surprises for us all, even those as selfish and bitter as I always was," Murtagh agreed. "I am constantly amazed that love helped me overcome those self-interested tendencies and that Nasuada came to love me as she has. I never would have imagined that I would earn her forgiveness after all I did to her, and I'm grateful every day that such a force exists in this world. It seems able to overcome all that is bad and ugly in life." They all nodded in unison, remaining silently thoughtful for a few moments, each couple expressing their affection in some way.


	18. Family

**18\. Family**

When Willow saw that Varhog had finally stopped eating, she asked, "What comes next, Yelloweyes? Can I meet the rest of your family?"

"Yes, Eartheyes, if that's what you want to do. Many contests will now begin and, with your fame, I expect many will want you to participate. They'll also welcome the chance to fight Firesword, Murtagh, Arya, or even you, Mooneater. Your reputation is no small thing around here."

Angela's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Which is as it should be, young man."

"Well, then. My family?" Varhog asked.

Willow nodded excitedly. "I got to meet Varhog's mother," she told everyone else. "And even better, _I_ get to call her 'mother.' Isn't that wonderful? _She's_ wonderful too. And he has seven siblings! I met the three youngest on the walk to the village. Here let me review the others' names once more before we go meet them. Yarbog, Myrin, Naynuk, and Bruntog. How did I do?"

"Perfectly, Eartheyes," Varhog approved.

Willow then said, "And Varhog has _twelve_ nieces and nephews, with two more on the way. Can you believe it? One of his sisters is supposed to have another cub—her fourth—any day." She giggled. "It still feels funny to say 'cub.' I keep imagining a little bear cub." As a thought struck her, she added, "What's the birth of a child like among the Urgralgra? Would I be allowed to be present?"

Varhog couldn't keep himself from chuckling when Willow mentioned a bear cub, but after her last question, the lightness became more subdued.

"It would be up to Myrin," Varhog said. "The birth of a baby here is as special as anywhere. Most of the females in the woman's family would be invited, if the mother wished it. And the baby's sire of course. Some families have a large gathering for a birth, others simply have the couple."

Willow nodded her understanding and made a silent resolve, which Varhog must have seen on her face.

"What are you thinking, Eartheyes?" Varhog asked.

"Only that I'll do my best to get Myrin to like me to increase my chances of being invited," Willow said. "I long to see what that would be like. My only memories are of when my mother gave birth to my brother, and that was horrifying. But I refuse to believe that's what it's meant to be like."

Arya said, "The birth of a child should be the crowning event of happiness and creative power in a woman's life. I've had this discussion with Eragon, though I did most of the talking, I suppose. Whenever the time comes for you to have a child, Willow, you won't have the same experience as your mother. I'll help you prepare."

"Thank you, Arya," Willow said, brightening again as she expectantly took Varhog's hand. "So many brothers and sisters now. I married a whole family! Let's go meet them, Varhog. And you all must come too!"

Varhog smiled and began walking toward a table near the outer edge of the square. The others took their time to get to their feet and follow behind.

It was then about midafternoon, for the fighting and feasting had filled the first part of the day. As they drew nearer the table, Willow recognized Varhog's mother at the head, with Yarbog at her right. When his family noticed Willow and Varhog heading toward them, all conversation ceased and all eyes turned to them.

Varhog smiled at everyone, which took some of his siblings by surprise, Willow could see. He stopped by his mother's side and said in Urgralish, while also translating his words in Willow's mind, "Greetings, my family. It has been many years and our numbers have swelled to more than double what they were when I left here nine years ago. I'm sorry I've never returned for a visit until now and that I didn't come see you before eating. Much has happened since we arrived and, as some of you know, I have been most occupied. But now I'm here. My new mate was very excited to meet you, so I've brought her. This is Willow."

Willow waved with her free hand as she looked around at the Urgals. It was fairly obvious which ones were Varhog's siblings and which were their mates. The children were all sitting together at the far end of the table, except for the youngest ones who couldn't sit on their own on a bench yet, and those were in the arms of either their mother or father.

Remembering what Varhog had said about his family speaking the common tongue, Willow eagerly said, "Hello! I have long envied Varhog his large family and when I learned you would be almost like my own, I was overcome with happiness. My father, mother, and brother have all died, and my only family since then has been with the Riders, but I'm delighted to be a part of yours." She looked at Varhog. "Can I try to guess?" she asked.

"As you wish, Eartheyes."

"Varhog taught me your names," Willow explained. "At least, those of his siblings by birth. I want to see if I can guess who the rest of you are, since I've already been able to meet several of you." She started with Yarbog. "We've already met, Yarbog. I'm sorry about what I had to do."

Yarbog shrugged. "It wasn't the first time I've been bested by a human. Firesword's cousin, Stronghammer, also once forced me into submission. It's a humiliation beyond compare, but I left you little choice. Forgive me, brother, for doubting your sanity and questioning your choice in a mate."

Varhog nodded. "I do, Yarbog."

Willow's eyes met those of the female next to Yarbog's side. She held a small child in her lap who nursed at her breast. Willow noticed with interest, having never before observed a woman feeding her child like this. Then she said, "You must be Yarbog's mate. I'm sorry I don't know your name."

The woman said, "I'm Kiengah. This is our youngest cub, and the other four are at the end."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kiengah," Willow sincerely said. There could be no doubt that the female next to Kiengah was Myrin. Her swollen abdomen pushed against the table in front of her, the baby inside nearly ready to be born. "And you must be Myrin," Willow said. "Mother told us your baby is due any day. Congratulations! That's so wonderful."

Myrin's eyebrows spiked as Willow said "mother," but she displayed no other sign of surprise. "You're right. I'm Myrin, Varhog's closest sister."

Myrin hadn't been with the crowd who had gone to greet the Riders, so she hadn't witnessed Willow's abilities. Though Willow sensed that Myrin was trying to behave cordially—perhaps those who had been present had tried to persuade her of Willow's worth—Willow could clearly see that Myrin was upset, and she wasn't extremely surprised after how Trayin had acted, especially since Varhog had told her he and Myrin were so close. To discover that her beloved older brother had returned for the first time in nine years intending to take a human as a mate and then to watch him marry that human without even acknowledging her must have been more than Myrin could accept.

Myrin addressed Varhog in a biting tone. "Nice of you to return for a visit, brother. And with a new mate, no less. Some news of this would have been welcome." The ram by her side shifted slightly, and Willow thought she recognized him as one of the many Varhog had defeated. He had seen Willow triumph, and Willow suspected his mate's cold manner made him uncomfortable since he felt a sense of loyalty to Willow as his rightful war chief.

Varhog scowled at Myrin's manner, but he left Willow's side to walk around the table. By the time he reached her, his face was kind and understanding. He knelt behind the bench where she sat, taking her hand and gently asking, "Why are you so angry, Myrin?"

Her demeanor immediately changed, and Myrin turned so she could face him. Tears welled up in her eyes as she put her arms around him, leaning over her ponderous belly.

"Because I missed you, Varhog. You've been gone _nine_ years, and mother rarely heard from you. I only got to speak with you on a handful of occasions. I took a mate and had three children but could never share my happiness with the brother I love best. Why couldn't you come see us?"

Varhog stroked her back in a gesture that Willow recognized from the times he had done the same with her. "Forgive me, Myrin. It was thoughtless of me. I have nothing to say for myself. I could have come after four years on the Isle, but . . . Willow. I didn't want to leave her there."

Myrin stiffened and slowly sat back. "So it was _Willow._ Your new _mate_. She's more important to you than your own mother, your family? A _human,_ Varhog? What are you thinking?" she accusingly demanded.

Varhog softly replied, "She's more important to me than anyone else, Myrin, which is as it should be with one's mate. But I don't love you any less. Nor mother. You know me better than anyone save mother. You know I wouldn't give my heart foolishly. I never would have considered marrying a human before I met Willow. You know that. I felt as you do. But she's so different. You won't believe me, and I don't blame you. You must see for yourself. She's worthy of me, Myrin. Please give her a chance." He looked at her pleadingly.

Myrin said nothing, regarding him stonily, so Varhog continued, "She's so excited to be part of our family. As impossible as it must seem to you, she loves me and is my dearest friend. She accepted me immediately, Myrin. She never judged me for being an Urgal before getting to know me, as you are now judging her for being a human. Willow fought according to Urgralish custom to prove she was worthy of me so she wouldn't come between me and my people. Don't force her to come between me and my favorite sister. Forgive me for neglecting you here. Let me make it up to you now. I long to meet your children and be an uncle to them." He paused once again, and his words finally seemed to take effect.

Myrin sighed and shifted in her seat, uncomfortable under the weight in her lap. "Very well, Varhog." She hugged him again. "I missed you so much. Before I married Tarhvek, I was so lonely without your company. I'm excited to hear of all your adventures as a Dragon Rider. The children are desperate to meet you and Black Thunder. I'm glad you'll get to be here when this baby is born. You will, right?"

"I will," Varhog promised, returning her embrace before standing and walking back to Willow's side.

Willow had remained very still and quiet throughout the exchange. She was troubled by Myrin's reaction to her, though Myrintuk had given her some warning it might be unfavorable. She whispered, "I'm so sorry, Myrin. I don't know what else to say. I hope we can be friends in time." Then before her eyes had a chance to tear up—why was she so emotional today?—she moved them to Myrin's mate.

"I just heard her say 'Tarhvek.' Is that right?"

The ram nodded and stood, bashing his fists against his forehead in an abrupt manner that startled Myrin. "That's right, Nar Willow. I'm Tarhvek, one of the fighting rams of the Bolvek tribe. You declined your rightful position as war chief, but I would follow you into battle."

Willow smiled faintly, still subdued by Myrin's reception. "I hope I never have to lead anyone into battle, but if I did, I'd be a lot more confident with several hundred Urgal rams behind me."

Tarhvek's mouth twitched in amusement, something he was determined to suppress in Willow's presence, but she noticed and laughed quietly.

"I'm sorry," Willow said. "The thought is so ridiculous to me that I just can't help it. You may sit," she finished in a commanding tone, followed by silly giggle.

Tarhvek sat, allowing himself to smile as Yarbog and Varhog both chuckled. Myrin glanced at her mate in irritation, and he shrugged when he noticed.

"She defeated Nar Garzhvog in single combat, Myrin," he said. "After she had already brought down Varhog and Yarbog. And this was after Varhog had just singlehandedly forced every ram who stood against him, including me, into submission. It was unbelievable. And Garzhvog would have died if she hadn't healed him. I can't help but admire that."

At this news, for apparently none had shared all of _that_ , Myrin looked back at Willow with shock in her eyes. " _You_ nearly _killed_ Nar Garzhvog?" she demanded, and Willow nodded. "I find that _hard_ to believe, as you say, Tarhvek." Her skepticism was undeniable.

Varhog said, "I can show you, Myrin. If you don't object, I'll play the images from my memories and the memories of those who shared them with me after I was unconscious. You'll see them within your mind. You can see for yourself what Willow accomplished. Perhaps it will help you think better of her. What do you say?"

Myrin looked confused. "How would that work?"

"Our dragons can communicate telepathically with us as soon as the bond is formed. You remember me trying to describe it while Black Thunder was still a hatchling, right?" Myrin nodded. "He even tried to communicate that way with you. But that was long ago. Anyway, we can communicate with our minds in thoughts and images as Dragon Riders. However, we don't do it with anyone whenever we want, since it would be disrespectful. That's why I'm asking permission. You wouldn't do anything but sit there while I show you my memories."

Myrin nodded, and Varhog asked, "Would anyone else like to see this while I'm at it?"

All of the adults and several of the oldest children also nodded, so Varhog began replaying the images from the time he held Nar Garzhvog to the ground and asked the Herndall if they would approve his union with Willow if she could defeat him. He also included Willow, and she focused on Myrin.

Myrin's eyes were distant, her look of skepticism slowly dissolving as she watched Willow effortlessly dodge Varhog's attacks, which he was reliving from his own memories. She gasped as Willow finally jumped on his back, cringing at the pain Varhog felt as he slid toward unconsciousness. Tears filled her eyes as Varhog thought his final plea to Willow and told her he loved her, but she impatiently brushed them away, though there was no doubting the absolute sincerity of his words.

Varhog's memories shifted, taking on a different tone as Yarbog came forward to face Willow, since he was now replaying the memories Arya had shared with him. Willow allowed her eyes to move to Yarbog so she could see what _he_ thought of this. He looked mortified but accepting. Kiengah smirked at Willow's mocking smile and taunting dare, shaking her head as she watched her mate succumb to Willow's stranglehold and sympathetically placing a hand on Yarbog's leg.

Willow looked back at Myrin, whose face had assumed an expression of reluctant admiration. No Urgal could witness another being bring down one of their rams without feeling some kind of approval.

As Garzhvog stepped forward to face Willow, Myrin tensed. He was so huge and powerful, even Willow now balked to see him like this, since she wasn't in her emotionless fighting mind. Myrin gasped in shock as Willow dove under Garzhvog's legs, leaped on her two brothers, and shouted as she sprang the eight and a half feet up to her uncle's back. Arya had noticed how her hair flew out, making her seem majestic and terrible, yet also undeniably feminine.

Everyone at the table was rapt during Willow's struggle to subdue Garzhvog. He remained upright and moving for over five minutes, wrenching around wildly, and yet Willow stayed firmly curled in her position on his back. When Garzhvog fell to his knees, everything that came after happened so quickly. Willow truly was amazed by how she had been able to identify his threat and execute her evasion in under two seconds. Myrin actually cried out as Garzhvog crushed his own throat and Willow arched gracefully through the air to land on her back, rolling to the side less than a second later as Garzhvog came crashing down and springing to her feet to dash toward Eragon.

Arya had taken note of Willow's fierce determination as she drew Brisingr and sprinted back to the convulsing Kull. Myrin clenched the table in front of her as Willow screamed her final defiant challenge with the tip of a sword pressed to the throat of her foe. Her tension relaxed as Willow dropped and healed Garzhvog's injury. Arya had captured her look of intense concern, which made it obvious that Willow didn't wish Garzhvog to come to harm. When her job of healing was done and Willow apologized to Garzhvog, Myrin's eyes once again filled with tears. Then Willow stood and moved over to Varhog's side.

Willow still had her eyes on Myrin, and she focused intently for this next part, for this was where she clearly demonstrated her love for Varhog, and she wanted Myrin to understand that. The tears spilled out of Myrin's eyes as Willow lay her cheek against Varhog's back and wept, which minor detail Arya had detected.

When Varhog stirred and regained consciousness, he resumed sharing his own memories, which started with Willow's tired declaration that she had triumphed and they could be together. For Myrin's sake, Varhog emphasized Willow's remark that they need no longer fear the displeasure of his clan, followed by his effort to express his feelings and Willow's laugh and relieved embrace.

Willow continued to observe Myrin's face as she witnessed Varhog's adoring love when he wrapped her tightly in his arms and Willow's tears as she cried on his shoulder. There was no denying how much Willow loved him. And it was also perfectly clear—since these were Varhog's thoughts—that he loved Willow enough to willingly die for her.

Myrin listened to the member of the Herndall give her blessing and stirring apology, which seemed personally directed at Myrin, and to Varhog's acceptance and forgiveness. The last thing Varhog shared before ending his memories was when he thanked Willow and her reply, "You're worth it."

Then Varhog's mental replay was over and everyone came back to the present, blinking or rubbing their eyes as if awakening from a dream and as silent as those present had been after the real events had concluded several hours earlier.

With tears still streaming down her face, Myrin finally broke the silence. "Forgive me, Varhog. I should never have doubted. That was the most incredible thing I have ever seen. That she was willing to do that for you is everlasting proof of her love and claim to you as her mate." She humbly addressed Willow. "I can see that you love my brother even more than I do. Forgive me for my hostility. You are my sister." Willow only nodded, too overcome for words.

The rest of the greetings went quickly, since Willow had already met the three youngest. The siblings were sitting in birth order down one side and around the other, so she met Naynuk and her mate next, followed by Bruntog and his mate, who was also expecting. They were both Kull, and their heads were higher than all those around them. Those who had still harbored any doubts about Varhog's choice immediately accepted Willow after seeing his memories of the fight.

After Willow finished meeting Varhog's family, Varhog turned and introduced the other Dragon Riders, who had gathered around the table. When the introductions between the adults were finished and casual conversation was picking back up, Varhog pulled Willow down to the end where the children were. They had remained impressively still and quiet for the long, dull exchange of adult greetings and niceties, but they were starting to fidget, as young children inevitably must.

Varhog squatted at the end of the table opposite his mother, folding his forearms on the tabletop. He grinned and leaned toward the young ones while saying, "I'm your Uncle Varhog. This is my mate, Willow, which makes her your aunt. We're so excited to meet you and show you our dragons. Would you like that?"

Their shyness at being addressed by one they had been taught to honor as highly as the Herndall and their war chief gave way at that irresistible invitation. They nodded excitedly, and one small girl clapped her hands. They began chattering in Urgralish, and as often seems to be the case, the language sounded much more musical and lilting in the high tones of a child's voice than in the deep tones of the adults.

"We'll call them with our minds to come see us now, but until they do, tell me your names," Varhog invited. "You have behaved admirably this long while, and I can see you wish to be moving." He stood only long enough to back up a few paces, then he knelt on the ground and waited, motioning for Willow to kneel next to him. She did, close enough that their sides and legs were touching.

That was enough to bring the children running. They were as curious and unafraid of Willow, different though she was, as Willow herself had been of Varhog on first meeting him. They swarmed around her, and two of the small girls sat right down in her lap, stroking Willow's face, hair, and especially her forehead, where no horns grew. Willow laughed in delight and hugged them.

She turned to Varhog and, taking care to convey her immediate affection for the children, thought, _Is this how it was for you? When we met? These small ones have accepted me more easily than any of the others._

Varhog replied, _Aye, very similar. That's a good way to put it. Your wonder and curiosity were so pure and innocent. Childlike, even as theirs._

The small lad sitting in Bruntog's lap began to squirm, seeing all his cousins free and moving. His father let him down and he toddled over, nearly stumbling over a stone buried in the dirt. When he reached Willow, he hopefully extended his arms, giving her a smile of such pure joy that her breath caught and tears came to her eyes. He was still growing in teeth and there were spaces showing in his toothless grin. The two little girls had wriggled off her lap moments before, so Willow pulled the little boy into her arms, loving the feel of his soft hair against her cheek and feeling a deep ache of longing to have a child of her own.

Two boys, maybe four and two, now sat on Varhog's lap, and two of the older girls were behind Willow, plaiting her hair and giggling cheerfully. The tallest male cousin hung back from the swarm of younger children.

Varhog noticed the boy and kindly addressed him. "You're the spitting image of my older brother, Yarbog, when he was young. What's your name?"

The lad proudly replied, "Yarbog. He's my sire."

"And how old are you, Yarbog?" Varhog asked.

"Eight, sir," the boy formally answered.

Varhog laughed. "Please, call me uncle."

Just at that moment, the two girls behind Willow came darting around the small clump of children in a game of chase. The younger tripped and fell into the older, making her stumble into young Yarbog. He turned with a look of irritation, preparing to shove her away.

Varhog gently caught his arm to keep him from hitting the girl and, at the same time, reached around Yarbog with his other hand to catch his niece. Once she had regained her balance, Varhog released them both.

With a look of gentle admonition in his eyes he said to Yarbog, "You must respect your female cousins, Yarbog, above all others."

"But why?" the boy petulantly asked.

"When you respect a female, you honor her ability to give life to the world and happiness to all around her," Varhog earnestly replied.

His wisdom was lost on the young lad, who stared at him blankly. So Varhog tried another angle. "If you respect females, as is their right, you'll one day win yourself a kind and beautiful mate."

This seemed more at the boy's comprehension level, but he was not fully convinced, for he said, "But father has never insisted I respect females and he has a kind and beautiful mate."

Varhog's eyes twinkled. "Aye, that is true. Your mother is indeed lovely and caring. But can she defeat your sire in single combat?"

The boy was caught, and he realized it. Smiling slightly, he said, "No, uncle."

"Well, there you have it. As you have seen," for young Yarbog had witnessed Varhog's memories while he shared them, " _my_ mate is capable of such a thing, and I won her through many long years of friendship, loyalty, and above all, respect. But I needn't be so hard on my brother. The fact that you view your mother as kind and beautiful indicates that he has at least taught you through his behavior to her how you ought to regard females, and that's an important start. If you learn nothing else from your Uncle Varhog, let it be this, young Yarbog." The boy nodded.

The two small boys in Varhog's lap began butting their hornless heads into his muscular chest, attempting to bowl him over as they so often witnessed their older counterparts do when scuffling about. Varhog made a sound of mock dismay, falling back in an exaggerated manner and pretending defeat. When he hit the ground, he groaned and said, "You have bested the great Dragon Rider Varhog. Now we'll recognize you as our new war chiefs."

The boys shrieked in delight over their conquest, springing up to prance about on Varhog's wide chest, which didn't seem to cause him the slightest discomfort.

Right then, Black Thunder and Sunset soared into view over the trees, and Sunset descended to land through the opening over the village square while the children let out a collective squeal of terror and wonder. Varhog sprang up from his back with the boys trapped in his arms and began stomping about, making playful grunting noises. They squirmed about and giggled as he tickled them.

"The black one there is my dragon," Varhog said, letting the small boys down. "He's big and strong like me. But see the pink-orange one? She's Willow's dragon. Isn't she beautiful, just like her Rider?" The children nodded rapturously.

The other Riders made their way over to where Varhog and Willow were interacting with the children and observed Varhog with mild surprise but mostly affectionate merriment. Arya, in particular, appeared most affected by the sweet openness of the children. She rubbed her womb as she leaned against Eragon, as if anticipating the day when she would enjoy such displays from her child.

Black Thunder landed after Sunset, and Varhog and Willow guided the children over to them, both holding a child's hand in each of their own. Sunset seemed just as happy at the sight of all the children as Willow. She lay down on her belly with her forelegs straight in front of her, stretching her neck flat on the ground so she could rest her head in front of the children.

 _Let them come over, sunshine,_ she entreated Willow.

Willow said to the children, "My dragon wants to meet you. Shall we?" They all indicated their excitement, whether by clapping, jumping up and down, or crying out. They walked with Willow to Sunset and stood in awe in front of the magnificent creature as Willow introduced, "This is my dragon, Sunset. You may pet her, but mind her sharp scales. See, if you run your hand this way, they won't hurt you, but the other way will leave you with a cut. Right here between her eyes is smoother. And so is her belly under her wings. She says you may play there if you like, and you may climb all about on her so long as you're careful. You cannot hurt _her_ , she only wants you to be safe."

Sunset carefully opened her wide wings and held them up invitingly. The children parted around her head, half dashing under one wing while the rest darted to the other. They pressed themselves against her smooth, warm belly, exclaiming in delight as Sunset hummed her approval.

Willow held Bruntog's son in her arms, and he curiously reached toward Sunset, so Willow knelt in front of Sunset's snout, placing the boy over Sunset's nose as if he were riding a horse. The small child, who was not yet one and a half, leaned down and hugged his arms around Sunset, resting his small cheek on the bridge between her eyes. Then he sat up and happily patted her, clapping his hands together in innocent enjoyment.

The adults in Varhog's family came over, as well as many of the other villagers. All who were alive and old enough remembered Black Thunder from years before when he had grown as a hatchling among them, but he was far, far bigger now. He sat with his neck proudly arched as they all admired him with Varhog.

"Come, old friend," Varhog insisted. "Let them have a closer look at you. You're the reason I left so long ago, and they must see why."

Black Thunder relented and dipped his head down. He regarded the Urgals with fatherly kindness in his great black eyes, a sentiment Willow had rarely seen there. She guessed the black dragon was glad to meet many more like Varhog, whom he had always referred to as "my son." Black Thunder let them touch him, and after a moment, Varhog asked those surrounding him if Black Thunder could address them mentally.

They all nodded, jumping somewhat as Black Thunder's deep voice filled their minds in Urgralish, for the dragon was as well-versed as Varhog in all the languages Varhog had studied. _Greetings, people and family of my Rider. I have sensed through my link with Varhog that some have resented his long absence, and I apologize for taking him from your midst. I chose this proud ram as my Rider, sensing his great worth and potential. He preferred to be solitary and withdrawn, which I knew would be important for his future time with the other Riders. But more than that, he is wise, noble, compassionate, strong, and has a great thirst for knowledge. His growth as a Rider has been immensely gratifying. I hope you are as proud of him as I am._

Black Thunder ended his message, and those who heard it had looks of wonder on their faces. Varhog placed his hand on Black Thunder's foreleg with gratitude in his eyes, and Willow knew they must have conversed with one another several times throughout the exchange. The dragon swung his head around, touching the tip of his snout to Varhog's forehead.

When Varhog had composed himself, he asked, "Would any of my nieces or nephews, or any of the rest of you, like to ride Black Thunder with me?" His words were met with many nods of anticipation.

Willow added, "Or Sunset with me?"

Breetuk hopefully stepped forward. "May I?" she asked.

"Of course!" Willow said. "And how about we take you too, Myrek?" Myrek was the oldest female grandchild—Myrin and Tarhvek's daughter—whose name Willow had learned while they sat on the ground. The girl had run to Willow's side after hearing her offer to take someone for a ride, and Willow looked over at Myrin, who was leaning against her mate with her hands resting on the shelf of her belly. "But only if your mother approves," Willow amended, a questioning look in her eyes.

Myrin smiled and said, "She'll be safe, won't she?" Willow nodded solemnly, so Myrin finished, "Then she may go, but only if I can go next. Perhaps flying on a dragon will get this baby to come."

Willow laughed. "I would be delighted to take you." She turned to help Breetuk and Myrek up into the saddle, securing some of the saddle straps around each of their legs. She noticed Varhog helping his brother Yarbog and young Yarbog into Black Thunder's saddle in a similar manner, and she felt a surge of love as she watched him. Meeting his family and the children had given her a glimpse into the true character of her new mate as no other experience before. Even though she was enjoying this time so much, Willow longed to be alone with Varhog so they could begin their own family.

A thought suddenly struck her. She remembered the conversation she and Arya had in the royal gardens four days earlier. Willow realized she was in that very phase of fertility that might lead to the conception of a child if an intimate relationship with a male occurred, which explained why her longing for Varhog had been so strong the past several days, starting not long after that discussion with Arya. Willow's body must have just been entering the window of fertility, creating within her the desire to join with the one she had chosen as her mate so the drive to reproduce would be satisfied.

Willow then felt even more impatient to be with Varhog so they could take advantage of this time. She realized he had also acted differently the last few days, as if he was aware on some level of the changes in herself and felt a more instinctive draw to her as a result. From what Willow had observed of animals during her times of meditation, it was the same pattern that led to mating in the wild.

Willow tried to push the thoughts from her mind, knowing the time was still not right but hoping nonetheless that the next several hours wouldn't mark the end of her fertility.

Varhog must have sensed her stare on his back, for he turned to look at her. _Soon, Eartheyes,_ he comforted, recognizing her expression of desire.

Willow swallowed and nodded, unconsciously placing a hand over her stomach as it clenched in response to the sound of his voice in her mind.

Varhog grimaced as the tone of her thoughts reached him. _You're making me crazy, Eartheyes! How is it possible that you want me as much as I want you?_

 _Because you're powerful and handsome and my mate! And you're amazing with these children. It's not surprising, I suppose. I've just never seen you like this and it makes me desperate to be with you so we can make one of our own. We need to stop thinking about this!_ Willow demanded, abruptly closing her mind and climbing into the saddle with her eyes forward.

But just as Sunset was preparing to take off, she risked another quick peek at Varhog. He was doing the same, and their eyes met. She smiled and thought, _Love you, Yelloweyes,_ before looking away, though she felt him smile in return.


	19. Flying, Fighting, and Frills

**19\. Flying, Fighting, and Frills**

The other Riders called their dragons, and soon all five of them were taking the Urgralgra high into the sky, which was how they spent the next several hours. Every passenger was thrilled by how exciting and freeing it was. Myrin was Willow's second flying companion, and Willow sat behind with her hands on her legs, not knowing where or how to reach around Myrin's large belly.

At one point, Myrin grasped her hands and placed them on an area of her distended womb, where Willow was amazed to feel the baby moving about, stretching within the tight confines of its world. Myrin turned carefully so the horn on that side of her head wouldn't bash into Willow's face, smiling at the amazing confirmation of life within her. Willow felt dumbfounded and immensely gratified that Myrin shared it with her. She mouthed her thanks, which Myrin seemed to understand.

Once the flights were over, the sun was beginning its daily masterpiece of painting the sky with the breathtaking colors that had inspired Sunset's name. The Urgals and their visitors returned to the village square to once again partake of the feast, which had been left out for that very reason.

Willow tried not to let her impatience show as their hosts insisted on many contests of strength and daring. Varhog was expected to participate in them, and Willow decided that watching his magnificent body must be her consolation. Then, at the request of almost all present, Willow was compelled to stand and face her mate to reenact the moment of that morning's triumph. She had no desire to cause Varhog pain, but at least this would mean she could touch him.

Before they began, Willow approached Varhog, stopping right in front of him. His body was hot and sweaty from his exertion in the contests. She could feel and smell it, and it made her heart pound. Looking up into his face, she earnestly pleaded, "Can we go after this?"

"There is one final custom after this," Varhog said. "But then we'll go."

"Will it take long?" Willow worried.

"Not long, Eartheyes," he promised.

Willow stared at his eyes a moment longer, feeling that _any_ delay would be too long. Setting her face in resolve, she muttered, "Then let's get this over with." She swept her hair up into a knot at the back of her neck and secured it with a clip, reminding Varhog, "I'm letting go when you hit your knees."

Varhog nodded, and they backed away from each other, holding still and wishing the celebratory customs of the evening were already over. Finally Varhog sprang toward her, and Willow easily dodged to the side, though she would have rather let him catch her. She let him attempt a few more times before performing the graceful maneuver that ended with her on his back. She lay her cheek against his neck and listened to his pulse, not wanting to squeeze hard enough to cause him pain. Squeeze she did, however, for the enjoyment of their gracious hosts.

When Varhog fell to his knees, the crowd roared its approval and Willow loosened her grip without completely letting go, lowering her legs and stepping around in front of him. His face was level with her chest, their height difference reversed with him on his knees. She slid her hands around the back of his head and into his hair, pressing his face to her chest and resting her forehead between his horns. "Enough," she breathed. "Let this be finished, Varhog. I can't wait any longer."

-:-:-

Varhog was still gasping for breath and suddenly his face was pressed to Willow's chest where he could hear her heart pounding and smell her so close. _Not here!_ he thought to himself. _Not with everyone around!_ He grabbed Willow around the waist and forced her back so he could stand without hurting her neck.

Without looking at Willow's eyes, for he knew he would lose control if he did, Varhog took her hand and walked swiftly to his mother, tersely saying, "Mother, Myrin, I present my new mate. I'll be waiting for her in _ten_ minutes outside your hut."

Varhog dropped Willow's hand, but she immediately grabbed his again in both of hers, crying, "I have to _leave_ you now? Varhog . . ." she trailed off, and Varhog could hear that she was close to tears, though he still didn't look at her. "I can't," she finished.

"Ten minutes, Eartheyes. That's all they have with you. Normally this would take hours. It's important to them."

Willow tried to object, but Varhog pulled his hand free and sprinted away.

-:-:-

Willow stood in despairing shock as she watched his back, continuing to face the direction Varhog had run as Myrintuk and Myrin pulled her away. "What's going on?" Willow faintly asked as they approached a hut.

Myrintuk answered, "This is a beloved tradition that takes place after the wedding ceremony joins a ram and his mate. The bride goes with the females of the ram's family, and they help her clean and dress in preparation for her wedding night. It is symbolic of accepting her into their family. Varhog will be back soon, Willow. We wish we had more time with you, but we can make up for it later. It's clear you two are desperate to be with each other."

Willow nodded mutely, trying not to seem as disappointed as she felt. They entered the hut, where it was clear the necessary things had been readied in advance. Myrintuk and Myrin swiftly let down her hair, removed her clothing, and helped her into a warm bath. Willow couldn't deny that it felt amazing and welcome after the traveling, fighting, and flying of the day. She was covered in layers of dirt, sweat, and grime and had to admit this was a nice gesture. Myrintuk offered her a cloth and sweet-smelling soap, which she accepted and used to wash her body, while Myrin washed her hair. Then they helped her out, and she dried off.

Myrintuk presented Willow with a lovely, lavender-colored silk dress, and Willow wasn't sure how they had managed, but the dress appeared to be a perfect fit. It was long-sleeved, floor-length, and fitted through the bust and waist. The dress laced up the front from her navel to her breasts, leaving a provocative opening that allowed her skin to show underneath. The neckline swooped dangerously low, revealing the upper curve of her bosom.

"How did you get this the right size when you only met me today?" Willow wondered in amazement as she tightened the laces.

"It was the dress made for my Preparing the Bride ritual," Myrin answered. "All we had to do was trim a few inches off the bottom. The laces allow it to fit anyone with a similar enough build. I wore it for Tarhvek as long as I could after we were married, but I got pregnant right away and have been either pregnant or breastfeeding ever since, so I never used it after the first few months. It's yours now, Willow."

"Thank you," Willow breathed. "It's stunning."

"It is long-sleeved for the season," Myrintuk explained, "since you are a fall bride. A spring or summer bride would be in short sleeves. The fit emphasizes your comely shape, which will please your new mate. The laces reveal some of your body to excite his passion, though that is rarely necessary. Our time already runs short, Willow. Do you have any questions about what's about to happen between you and Varhog?"

"Only this. Why can't it be happening already?"

Myrintuk smiled approvingly and Myrin, who was drying and brushing her hair, laughed.

Myrintuk then said, "I'm glad you're so excited for this, Willow, and that you seem to have no shame or reluctance. That is the way we Urgralgra feel about intimate love. It's one of the most beautiful experiences you will ever have, and it will solidify the bond between you and Varhog. Be prepared for how powerful it is. Love between two Urgralgra—or in your case, _with_ one—is not something to be trifled with."

Willow couldn't hide her surprise, but before she could voice a question, Myrin muttered in frustration, "We don't have enough time, mother! Her hair will still be wet and make her cold."

"I can help with that," Willow offered, and she murmured the spell for drying her hair.

Myrin exclaimed in amazement as water dripped to the floor between them and began her work again. "We'll put your hair back up, but only so you can let it down in front of Varhog," she said. "It's thought to be very appealing. He'll appreciate it."

Myrintuk must have noticed Willow's surprise, for as she took one of Willow's hands to quickly clean and groom her fingernails, she asked, "Willow, why did you look surprised before?"

"Because of what you said about intimate love being powerful. It reminded me of how Varhog once described it. He's of the mind that intimate love is different for Urgals than other races—not as much an expression of love or passion as a fulfillment of the instinct to mate and produce children."

Myrin groused, "Varhog is a fool if he thinks that." In a softer tone she added, "Varhog would have learned the truth if he hadn't always been content to be by himself. He didn't think he would find a mate, though he was eligible and plenty of females desired him. None interested him. Not that he was arrogant. It must have been that he just wanted someone different. _Much_ different, obviously. He would engage in fighting and training with the other rams but would take his leave after. The mated rams often talk of this with the younger males so they'll be prepared and know about precautions they should take. The females prepare the younger generation in a similar manner. But the topic is rarely discussed when both genders are present unless all have mates, then they will very likely converse openly. In private, mates talk very freely of it, unless they're simply acting it out."

Myrin ended with an indulgent laugh. "Which reminds me. Since the festivities took so long, I'm glad Varhog didn't give us much time. Tarhvek will be anxious for me to return. We try every night to encourage this baby to come, Willow. Intimate expressions of love can sometimes begin labor once the baby is fully developed and ready to be born." She laughed again, handing Willow a toothbrush and paste to clean her mouth.

Willow gratefully accepted and began using them. Myrin's explanation surprised her, but she thought she could understand, given how powerful Varhog's longing seemed to be, not to mention her own. She then felt even more excited and was relieved when she heard the sharp rap at the door indicating Varhog's arrival. She quickly finished her job, setting the brush on the table and rinsing her mouth.

Myrintuk and Myrin both stopped what they were doing and turned Willow to look in a long mirror set up specifically for this purpose, as far as Willow could tell. She raised her eyebrows in surprise at her reflection, which looked seductively feminine. Her figure was profoundly obvious under the light, silky fabric of the dress. The crisscrossed laces down the front ended below her navel, suggestively hinting at more, whereas the neckline left very little to the imagination. The lower two-thirds of her breasts were scantily covered by material and pressed against the thin silk, all curves visible. With her hair up and so much skin showing around it, her neck looked long and graceful. The dress hugged the outer edges of her shoulders, baring her whole collarbone and a deep curve of her upper back. Willow smiled in delight, already able to picture how her appearance would affect Varhog.

"He has never seen me like this," she shared. "It's going to be hard for him."

Myrin smirked. "That's the idea."

Myrintuk said, "He won't want to be kept waiting."

"Nor I," Willow earnestly added. "Thank you. I look forward to resuming this conversation after I've experienced this blissful union. Where is he taking me?"

"We'll let him tell you," Myrintuk said, leading her toward the door. A look of concern crossed her face, and she quickly added, "Remind Varhog to be gentle. If he's not fully expecting the power of this experience, he could very easily hurt you. Our strongest rams learn to be careful so as not to hurt their mates, but Urgralgra bones are thicker and injuries are rare." As they reached the door, she finished, "Enjoy yourselves, my daughter."

Willow smiled as Myrin opened the door, turning her eyes to Varhog as soon as he was visible. From the way his wet hair glistened in the moonlight, Willow could see that he had also washed himself and changed into clean clothing. She thought him handsomer than ever.

Varhog returned her smile, apologizing, "Sorry I'm late. I was really smelly." Then he laughed and let his eyes leave her face. They widened in amazed disbelief as he caught sight of her dress and the extent of what it revealed. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth as if to speak, but apparently changed his mind and closed it. Willow could see that he _tried_ to look back at her face, though he wasn't quite successful. His eyes were fixated on the bare skin of her neck, shoulders, back, and especially her bosom. She blushed at the unrepressed hunger in Varhog's eyes, and Myrin laughed at him.

"We only just finished," Willow reassured him, trying to get his attention back. With great effort Varhog raised his eyes to her face, then he glanced behind her toward his mother and sister.

"Thank you," he whispered. "She's magnificent." His mother nodded, handing him a large basket covered with a cloth.

"You will find that it has been prepared for you to stay many days," Myrintuk said. This seemed to make sense to Varhog, and he nodded.

With a sly grin Myrin said, "Enjoy yourself, brother. Don't come back until you're ready. We understand." As an afterthought she added, "Though I'll notify you if the baby decides to make its appearance. I want you both to be there."

"Thank you," Varhog repeated, looking back at Willow and keeping his eyes on her face, though she could see that they begged him to look down again. He switched the basket to his other hand and reached out. "Shall we?"

Willow nodded, taking his hand in both of hers and stepping to his side so his arm ran the length of the laced opening on her dress. Though his shirt had long sleeves, Varhog clearly noticed and began walking away from his mother's hut into the trees.

After a minute Willow asked, "Where are we going?"

Varhog looked over at her, allowing his eyes to skim downward for a moment. "To my hut," he answered.

"What do you mean 'your hut'?"

"The hut I built when I turned twenty-one," Varhog replied.

"You can't expect me to be satisfied with that, Varhog," Willow said in playful exasperation.

"I'm sorry, Eartheyes," he apologized. "You look so breathtaking that I'm having a . . . _difficult_. . . time remembering how to walk."

Willow smiled impishly, and Varhog barked a short laugh before elaborating, "When an Urgal ram turns twenty-one, which is the age he becomes eligible to take a mate, he builds a hut for himself and his mate to live in whenever he ends up marrying. I built mine with no intention of using it, since it's expected of us. The summer after I finished, Black Thunder hatched for me, and I raised him here for the most part. I always enjoyed solitude, which is why it's so far from the village. But that all changed when I met you. Then I never wanted to be alone."

Willow smiled again. "So you built this hut we're going to?"

"Yes, with my own hands. I hope you find it acceptable. It's yours now. Ours. Our home, whenever we stay here."

"What a lovely custom," Willow said. "I love everything I learn about the Urgralgra, Yelloweyes. Your culture is so family oriented. Myrin mentioned something interesting when I was with them just now."

"Is that so?" Varhog said with noticeable apprehension.

Willow laughed at his discomfort. "Yes, it is so. They warned me about the power of this experience we're about to have together. I was surprised, and they noticed. I shared your perception of intimate love as being less powerful for Urgals than other races. Your sister called you a fool for thinking that. She said you would have learned the truth if you hadn't been so solitary. Are you nervous that you might not be prepared for the truth _,_ whatever it is?"

"I'm not nervous to be with you, Eartheyes," Varhog said with utter certainty. "I have no doubt my sister spoke truly. The feelings I have felt for you the past several weeks have been potent enough in and of themselves—even more so than what they were before—and I already admitted to you that for many years now I have longed for you so deeply that it's almost painful. It has forced me to accept that the expression of those feelings is going to be powerful indeed."

Varhog glanced back at her with a rueful expression. "I'm sorry about before, by the way, after our last fight, when I wouldn't look at you. I was completely unprepared to have my face pressed to your bosom," he explained, his eyes flashing down to it, "where I could hear your heartbeat and smell you in such a tempting way. I almost lost control right in front of everyone. I would have if I had looked at your eyes and discovered even a fraction of the passion that was in your voice. Here we are," he finished as they came to a clearing in the trees where a modest hut stood. "My mother told me they prepared it for our stay. In all the years I was gone, it has been empty. I hope it won't seem too barren."

Willow found the cottage quaint and whimsical. "I'm sure I'll love it, Varhog. Especially knowing you built it for us with your own hands, even though you didn't think there would ever be an 'us' at the time."

"How happy I am I was wrong," Varhog said, suddenly sweeping her into his arms.

Willow cried out in surprise, and Varhog grinned at her, but he couldn't suppress the deep longing in his eyes as they fell on her scantily clad form. Willow glanced down to see that her new position forced her breasts even further out of the dress.

"You're so beautiful, Willow," Varhog muttered. "Let's go in."


	20. The Kiss of an Urgal

**A/N:** This chapter contains a mature love scene, though all explicit Mature Adult (MA) detail is gone and can be found at autumn6435 . livejournal . com under the entry entitled _Part 2, Chapter 20. The Kiss of an Urgal (original sex scenes)_. You will find this small symbol -:- four times in this chapter, indicating the beginning and ending of two different scenes, separated by several paragraphs. FYI: where the symbol appears together two times like this -:-:- I am signifying a viewpoint shift from one character to the other. There is no need to read the MA content if that doesn't interest you—the chapter still flows without it. And if you don't want to read even the Mature version, I invite you to skip this chapter altogether, since I'm sure you can guess fairly accurately what takes place between Willow and Varhog. :)

* * *

 **20\. The Kiss of an Urgal (revised)**

Varhog walked to the door with Willow in his arms and opened it with the hand still holding the basket, ducking to clear the frame as he entered.

"I wasn't this tall when I built this," he told Willow. "We make the doors tall enough that we can pass through without having to do that, and I assumed I had reached my full adult height. That changed thanks to my bond with Black Thunder." Varhog murmured a spell that dimly lit the room and gently set Willow on her feet. "We'll have to make some Erisdar to light our hut like we do on the Isle," he commented, referring to the flameless lanterns so often used by dwarves and elves.

Willow looked around them as Varhog closed the door behind himself. They were in an open room that appeared to be a kitchen, family room, and front room in one. To their right was a sofa large enough to seat three adult rams side by side. Opposite the front door was the kitchen. A table, along with the counter right behind it, formed a divide between the two rooms. To their left—across from the sofa and just past the wall that was part of both the kitchen and hallway—was the door to the washroom. The hallway to the back of the hut was beyond the washroom door.

Varhog walked to the table and set the basket down. "I'm sure that's mostly food. Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Yes." Varhog looked back at her and saw what she meant as Willow finished, "For you."

Without responding, Varhog reached for her hand and led Willow down the hall toward the back of the hut, stopping at a door on his left, which he opened, once again ducking to pass through and closing it behind them. He repeated the spell to light the room, and the huge bed across from them caught Willow's eye.

"We make the beds big enough for a full-grown ram and his mate, as well as their little ones, when they start to come along," Varhog explained, noticing her stare.

"You made the furniture too?" Willow asked, and Varhog nodded. "That explains how you were able to help me with Eragon's bed on the Isle."

"Aye," Varhog replied, "though magic made _that_ job easier. I built all of this through honest hard work." He walked into the room a little past her then turned to face her. They stood a few feet apart, their growing anticipation creating an electric charge in the air.

Willow finally broke the prolonged moment of silence. "This is it then." Varhog nodded again, and she smiled. "I finally get to kiss you." Varhog's amusement was more muted, overshadowed by deeper emotions.

"What are we waiting for?" Willow teased.

Varhog shrugged, unlacing his shirt and pulling it off in one swift motion. Willow noted how easily he took it off around his horns and admired his torso, remembering how much she had enjoyed it the few other times she had seen it bare—in his room on the Isle and during a couple of their recent fights. Even in the times they had swum together, Varhog had always worn a shirt.

"Your torso is amazing," Willow complimented. His powerful muscles seemed to ripple even when Varhog was perfectly still, so when he shrugged again, they jumped to life, and she laughed.

"My turn," Willow said with a mischievous smile, keeping her eyes on his as she unlaced the narrow slit down the front of her dress. As the laces loosened, the gap widened, slowly revealing more of her body underneath. The hungry look that had been in Varhog's eyes when he first saw her in the dress returned in full force, though Willow saw it was even stronger now that he would finally get to taste her and satisfy it.

Willow had imagined she would undress from the dirty, travel-worn leather coat and leggings she always wore. She was so grateful the Urgals had a custom that had instead left her in this beautiful garment, clean and sweet-smelling. She felt so much more feminine.

Once Willow reached the bottom of the laces, the already precarious hold the dress had around her shoulders failed and it slipped down, completely exposing her breasts. She smiled at Varhog's expression as she gracefully slid the rest of the way out of the gown, dropping it in a careless heap at her feet.

Willow lifted a hand to remove the clip holding her hair in an elegant twist, releasing it with a flourish on top of the dress and shaking her hair out with a flirtatious flip of her head. It swirled down around her shoulders and back, falling almost to her waist in gentle waves and filling the air with a sweet smell. Varhog's body tensed, and Willow's smile widened.

Her posture calm and confident, Willow casually settled her weight over one hip with her shoulders back and her arms relaxed by her sides. She held her chin high—as was necessary to look at Varhog's face—with an unspoken challenge in her expression, daring him to find anything he disapproved of in her body.

-:-:-

Unbeknownst to Willow, it was actually an instinctively Urgralish thing to do. Varhog wordlessly accepted her challenge, allowing his eyes to rove unrestrained over Willow's body, so relieved he didn't have to limit his observations any longer. His realization of earlier when he first arrived at his mother's hut was confirmed in greater detail now that he beheld her full beauty. He must have never recognized the growth and maturation Willow had undergone from the time he first met her as a sixteen-year-old girl. Then she had been shorter, thin, and scrawny. And she had always worn the same fitted leather coat and leggings that somehow disguised the feminine shape of her body, making her appear more boy-like.

Now Varhog saw, as the maddening dress had so tantalizingly suggested, how truly desirable Willow's figure was. Her neck was long and graceful, flowing out to her wide shoulders. She was muscular through her arms and chest. Her full breasts were now uncovered, but they had been the most shocking discovery earlier, when the dress had left so little to his imagination. How had he possibly missed them before? Even when she had pressed his face into them after their final match, Varhog never would have guessed how beautiful and shapely they were. He supposed it was due to the restrictive nature of her leather coat, which buttoned all the way up to her throat.

Willow's waist narrowed firmly under her ribcage, where lines of muscle defined her abdomen. Her waist curved out into the supple shape of her hips, narrowing again as it flowed down to her long, limber thighs and calves, which were both slender and strong. Her hair was long and shining, accentuating the graceful curve of her back. She was tall, lithe, and . . . perfect.

Worried anything more would break his already wavering self-control, Varhog simply said, "You have a very comely form."

Willow smiled, clearly pleased. "I'm sure you helped it become this way, what with the constant and rigorous demands of our courtship." She was flirting with him, which didn't help his control. Nor did her next actions.

Willow closed the gap between them, raising her hand to his shoulder. "This is what Arya helped me come up with when I described the difficulty presented by 'your hide,'" she explained with a coy smile, murmuring the spell and running her hand over his wiry bristles. Everywhere her hand brushed, the bristles laid flat, softened slightly, and curled under. An involuntary tremor ran through Varhog's body, making his muscles spasm and his flesh raise in bumps at her gentle touch.

"I didn't want to make them like human hair," Willow continued, "just soft enough not to hurt me. I like all possible reminders that my mate is an Urgal ram." This she said from behind him as she ran her hand down his back, but Varhog didn't miss the surge of fierce pride in her voice. Every time she finished a downward stroke, Willow lightly trailed her fingertips up his skin to reach the next area.

Her words and the feather-light feel of her hand were more than Varhog's weakening self-control could handle. His body shuddered, and an instinctive rumbling kindled in his chest. Willow stepped back in front of him, moving close so her breasts would brush against him. Varhog saw that she did it intentionally when she raised her face and her eyes had a sultry look in them, her lips parting in an inviting smile. Willow then repeated her spell on his chest, lazily dragging her hands down his hide, _feeling_ his sculpted muscles in obvious enjoyment.

Varhog clenched his hands into fists, flaring his nostrils as he caught her scent in his sensually heightened state. "You smell different," he growled through gritted fangs.

Willow regarded him carefully. "That may be because I am fertile right now," she quietly said. "I've thought the state of my body might create a scent you would notice. If such a thing can be, would you have a problem if this union created a child?"

That was sufficient to take the edge off Varhog's primal urge long enough to think straight. "I wouldn't have a problem with it if you don't."

"No," Willow assured. "After all that happened today, nothing would make me happier. Except doing this right now."

"Besides," Varhog added, "short of tearing this hut apart to release this unbearable longing, I don't think anything could stop me from going through with this."

"You must be careful with me, Varhog," Willow cautioned. "You could break my body more easily than I like to think."

Varhog's eyes tightened as he acknowledged the truth of her words. He _must_ be careful. "I will not hurt you, Eartheyes," he vowed.

"I've finished everywhere I can see," Willow then said, referring to her work of softening his hide. She took a step back, and his body unconsciously leaned after her. "Anywhere else?" An impish look played across her features.

Varhog had memorized the spell while she was performing it, since she had repeated it many times. He muttered the words as he passed his hand over his groin and down each leg several times to cover every angle. After pulling off his boots and socks, he swiftly removed his own pants and undergarments.

-:-:-

Varhog was already fully aroused from their interaction, and Willow wasn't surprised that _that_ particular part of his body was as large as the rest. It was good she was tall for a human, with wide hips, otherwise this union would not be possible.

They each took a step toward the other, bringing their bodies in contact. Willow didn't expect Varhog's skin to feel so hot to the touch, and as she put her hands on his chest, again admiring his amazing musculature, the familiar fluttering in her gut was stronger than ever before. Yet it somehow deepened when Varhog raised his hands, spreading his fingers wide and covering most of her back as he pressed her body against him.

"Before words fail me," Varhog grunted, "I need to ask. . . . Can I stand up? I'm too fearful I would hurt you if we lie down, Willow, unfamiliar as I am with what to expect. This longing is so overwhelming that I can think of nothing else."

Willow raised her eyes to his and nodded slowly. Her desire to kiss Varhog had never been as insistent, and it was _finally_ the right time. She slid her hands around his neck, feeling his heavy breathing and hearing his heart crash in his chest. She stretched onto her toes as he lowered his face, and they closed the gap between them, brushing their lips together.

-:- Willow instantly understood why Urgals did not kiss in public places. A rush of electricity and fire coursed through her blood, overpowering her reason and will. She immediately surrendered both, giving herself over to the demands of her instincts and Varhog's passion.

The deep-chested sound that had been building in Varhog ripped forth in a throaty growl. He pulled her swiftly up, and they paused their kiss long enough to stare at each other, agreeing with their eyes that this felt perfect. Willow resumed the urgent exchange as Varhog staggered over to brace himself against the wall with one arm, apparently not trusting it anywhere near her back or shoulders.

Before long, Willow felt a nagging pressure around her hip, but she couldn't place it, so fine was the line between pleasure and pain. But when she began to feel her joint creak in protest, she knew she must warn Varhog before it was too late. "Varhog!" she quickly gasped, an edge of panic in her voice. "That hurts!"

The tone of her voice must have reached Varhog, though Willow sensed his struggle to speak. "Where?" was all he managed to choke out, seeming unsure where her pain originated given the many places her soft body was in contact with his rough one.

"My hip!" Willow cried, tears filling her eyes as Varhog's powerful hand—the one supporting her weight and grasping her hip—unconsciously tightened its hold and crushed her bone.

Willow could easily guess how difficult it was for Varhog to focus on anything aside from the unbelievable sensations of this experience, so she tried to help him. "I can hold myself here," she said, prying futilely at his hand and squeezing her eyes shut as thick tears rolled down her cheeks. She angrily scrubbed them away with her arm, knowing how they would affect Varhog if he noticed.

He didn't notice. Yet. But he did move his hand away from her body, placing it against the wall next to the other.

Even after the maddening pressure had left them both, the relief did nothing to stop Willow's tears because the pain in her broken hip remained and was immense. She buried her face in Varhog's shoulder and sobbed.

 _Stop it, Willow!_ she demanded of herself, _stop it!_ She screamed at herself to regain her composure, knowing this was the worst thing she could do. If she could calm down enough to speak, she could heal her hip and end the pain. But no matter how she tried, Willow couldn't stop the tears.

When Varhog did notice her tears, a terrifying stillness came over him. He straightened, returning one arm under her body and holding his other hand over her hip, _so_ careful not to touch her as he murmured the familiar words of healing.

Willow dug her fingers into his shoulders to keep herself still, tightly pressing her lips together to smother the whimper of pain that escaped as her bone knit back together. When Varhog was done, she felt immediate relief.

"I'm sorry, Varhog," Willow began, fearing any delay would only make matters worse. "I didn't mean . . ." But he didn't let her continue.

Varhog walked to the bed, easily resisting her efforts to remain attached to him and gently placing her on it. The pain and regret in his face shattered her.

In a deathly quiet voice he said, "I'm so sorry, Willow. I should not have presumed to do that with you. I have broken my most fervent promise to you—that I would never hurt you—and I will never forgive myself." -:-

Willow protested his every word with her eyes, punctuated by insistent shakes of her head, but to no avail. Varhog began to move away from her. While imploringly reaching her hands toward him, Willow whispered, "That was too beautiful for regret. Varhog . . . please."

But Varhog turned, walked over to his pants, and pulled them on. Willow watched him despairingly, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

Varhog looked back at her but did not return to her side—his body faced the door—and with the deepest self-loathing Willow had ever witnessed, he said in the ancient language, "But I promise you this. I will _never_ t—"

"NO!" Willow shrieked, reading his intent in his eyes. Quick as lightning, she sprang off the bed and reached him, clapping one hand over his mouth and the other on the back of his head in an attempt to keep him from pulling away, though she knew he still could if he tried.

"No, Varhog!" she frantically begged. "Never promise that in the ancient language! After having experienced that with you just now, do you not know what it would do to me if you never touched me again! It would destroy me! Pain so piercing I would never recover would destroy me if you never touched me again, Varhog, never loved me like that again! The pain you caused in my hip is already gone, a distant memory, healed by your own hand, but I would die a long, horrible, lonely death if I could _never_ enjoy your touch again. _Please_ ," she begged again, "never say that!" She searched his eyes until she saw them soften and agree to her pleadings.

-:-:-

Varhog was stunned by Willow's feverish response, not daring to imagine that their union could have affected her like it had him, since he had _broken_ her hip. She sagged against his chest, breathing in deeply and pulling herself against him. Her tears soaked his hide.

"Please touch me, Varhog," she whispered. "I _need_ you right now. After all that happened today, all we overcame to be together, the shock of you threatening to abandon me like that on our wedding night is enough to make me want to wither and die. I can't live without you now, not after that. I will never be the same again. We are mated for _life_."

Varhog felt a renewed sense of guilt and self-revulsion as Willow's poignant words made him realize that he had been about to walk out on her and never return. In his determination to never again physically hurt her, he hadn't taken any time to consider what kind of emotional devastation that would have wrought in her life and his own.

Willow grabbed his hand, placing it over her abdomen, and Varhog flinched as his skin touched hers. "Would you also abandon this?" she demanded. "This chance even now that a child will develop within me as a result of our passion?" She beseechingly stared into his eyes, willing him to understand. "I _love_ you, Varhog. You are my best friend, the only man I have ever given myself to. I forgive you! I understand that what you were feeling was so powerful you couldn't control it. I felt the very same! The only difference is that my hands aren't as strong as yours, otherwise I too would have crushed you. It was an honest mistake! Now we know what to expect, and I . . ." she trailed off hopelessly, clearly believing her words were having no effect on him.

When Varhog continued to remain silent in his struggle to voice any of the countless emotions he was processing, the fervor in Willow's eyes cooled and she stared at him dully, steeling herself for the possibility that he would walk out and leave her forever.

"Varhog, speak," Willow commanded in a flat voice. "Say something. Anything. Tell me you will never leave me and take me in your arms again or kill me swiftly before you go because I don't want to live without you. Life wouldn't be worth living."

Varhog had never known Willow to be melodramatic. She was always perfectly honest and direct so it seemed unlikely that she would suddenly take up such theatrics. But was it possible she meant what she said?

Worried by her drastic change from feverish and insistent to dull and lifeless, Varhog carefully wrapped his arms around her and whispered, "If you can forgive me, Willow, then I will _never_ leave you. I would be a shell of a ram without you. All my love and passion were just channeled into you in an experience I never could have prepared for. I must remain by your side forever to feel anything anymore. I have no idea how I grew up all my life not realizing how incredibly powerful that experience is. That I thought it wasn't the same for the Urgralgra as other races because our public affection is more minimal was a terrible misunderstanding. No wonder we Urgralgra don't kiss in public! Once engaged in, the kiss of an Urgal is an overpowering force, demanding extension to every sense and expression the body is capable of, bringing to bear the most instinctive primal urges as to make me believe myself the beast most men view me as. I'm sorry I was so unprepared, Willow.

"And you . . . you are the most perfectly beautiful female I have ever viewed, hornless though you are. That dress, the way you removed it, your hair, your scent, your taste, the way you _feel_ , created a fever in my blood that burned away all reason and control. I'm so sorry, Willow," he whispered again, tears squeezing out of his tightly closed eyes.

-:-:-

Willow only became aware of his tears as she felt them wet her hair. She had never, in all their seven years of friendship, known Varhog to cry. Not once in the past several weeks, through all the wide-ranging emotional experiences, had his emotions so overcome him as to bring him to tears. He was so stoic and impassive all the time, unless Willow was teasing him and succeeded in making him smile or laugh.

Willow lifted her face and brushed her hands across his cheeks, attempting to wipe away his pain. "Can we sit down?" she requested after a moment. Varhog made no effort to resist as she pulled on his hands toward the bed. Willow wanted more than anything to remove the agonized expression from his face, but she couldn't think of words strong enough to accomplish her desire. Only one thing seemed to have that power, and it involved no words. Willow's longing to make love again was so deep that she ached inside, but would Varhog reject her advances?

Willow decided that the hurt if he did would be more bearable than her current emotional pain, so after Varhog sat down, she slid onto his lap, placing her knees on either side of his hips and suggestively pressing her torso against his so there would be no room for misunderstanding. She communicated her longing with the pleading look in her eyes, the desperate appeal of her lips, and the insistent caress of her hands.

Willow ended this final caress by running her hands around the curl of his horns and moving her mouth to his ear. Then she fulfilled her promise of that morning and, with a yearning so much more vulnerable than it had been, whispered, "I want you so badly, Yelloweyes. I'm burning for you."

Varhog's body stiffened in response, both with passion and his effort to subdue it. Willow felt his steely strength as he gently wrapped his hands around her upper arms and began to pull back.

Knowing she could never withstand his strength—though she tried—Willow began begging, her longing so intense that her tears sprang forth once more. "Please, Varhog. Please let us do this! I need to feel the reassurance of your love again, the certainty you want me. Perhaps it _would_ be better if we laid down, and I remained above you. Then my weight—as insignificant as it must seem to you—would be on top of you rather than the other way around and you wouldn't feel the need to support it. Please. There is nothing else I can think to do that will remove that tormented expression from your face and fill this horrifying emptiness inside of me."

Varhog tightly closed his eyes, but Willow clearly understood the tortured emotions of desire and fear playing across his countenance. "I want you, Willow," he said in a firm way that left no room for doubt. "More than anything. Ever. But I . . . I'm so afraid I'll hurt you again."

"Nothing you could do to my physical body would compare to the pain of my soul right now," Willow insisted. "Any bruise or shattered bone you could easily heal with magic. But _this_ pain, _this_ ache can only be healed by joining our bodies. I beg of you," she tried one last time, preparing herself for his denial by hunching her shoulders and bowing her head.

-:-:-

Varhog lifted her chin with his hand, and Willow gazed at him, silent tears following their familiar path down her cheeks. The look of broken defeat in her eyes was all it took. He couldn't stand to see the emotion on her face in this most vulnerable of situations. Trying to resist her power over him did _not_ feel natural, and Varhog thought back to his promise of that morning—that if she whispered her words in his ear once again, he would do what felt natural and allow himself to express his longing. He answered her final plea by pressing his lips against hers and cautiously surrendering to the inescapable demands that followed.

-:- Willow stared into his eyes whenever she could, which intensified the intimacy of their exchange. Varhog expected a triumphant look, but her expression of profound gratitude so surprised him that he found control was not hard to come by, at least initially. He lay back, pulling her down with him, and discovered that she was right in her surmise—she was feather-light to him. Varhog carefully stroked her back and shoulders when he felt he could be gentle enough, moving his hands to the bed when he couldn't. The light tickle of her hair, which spilled onto his body, was a tantalizingly provocative sensation.

When the powerful rumbling again issued forth from his chest, Varhog clenched his jaw in an effort to suppress it. He didn't want to seem like a beast to Willow, but that was how he felt with this ravenous hunger clawing inside of him, threatening that it would never be satisfied but by her.

It didn't take long for them to accomplish their intentions. Varhog wanted to prove that he could do this without hurting Willow so it would be the loving expression they both desired. He knew Willow wished only to bring happiness back to his face and her heart. They both were successful.

As Willow curled into his vast frame, Varhog returned his hands to her back from where they had gripped handfuls of the blankets, running his fingers along her skin, which made her shiver. He hadn't hurt her, and as she raised her face to share her joy and satisfaction, he felt overwhelming relief and pride—relief that she was unhurt after he satisfied his need and pride that she was his mate.

"I am the mate of a fearless Urgal ram," Willow exulted, echoing the emotion she must have seen in his eyes. Then she kissed his neck before snuggling against his chest. This day had been the most exhausting and emotional one either of them had ever experienced, so long and full of so many demands. Now that they felt the contentment and satisfaction resulting from their physical love, they immediately drifted off to sleep, their arms around one another. -:-

-:-:-:-


	21. Grintuk

**21\. Grintuk**

Back on the Isle of the Eldunarí, where it was nearly dawn, Grintuk couldn't sleep, as had often been the case since the night he and Varhog had spoken in the Cave of the Eldunarí. The haunting voice of the anguished Eldunarí echoed in his mind again, and he sprang out of bed, calling back to his dragon as he jogged out of his room, _Don't worry about me, Kuldr. I'm going to find Blödhgarm._

Grintuk wasn't sure where to find the elf. Blödhgarm was often as nocturnal as the beasts his appearance imitated. To save himself time, Grintuk risked searching for Blödhgarm with his mind. The elf knew the feel of every Rider's mind, but they didn't often communicate mentally with the elves because of how foreign and eerie their minds were. He quickly found Blödhgarm and said, _It's Grintuk. Would you be willing to meet me at the Cave of the Eldunarí, please? I had a most unusual experience some weeks back and hope you'll be able to help me._

Blödhgarm agreed and since they could both move so swiftly, they arrived at the large mouth of the Cave only a few minutes later. When Grintuk began walking into the Cave, the elf followed.

"Thank you, Blödhgarm," Grintuk said. "I'm sorry to so rudely intrude on your thoughts, but I had no idea where to find you."

"It is no matter, Grintuk," Blödhgarm replied. "You would have been hard-pressed to find me so it is most likely for the best. So long as your mind remains intact after the contact, I will not prevent it. You know I could easily crush you, if I wanted."

Grintuk grinned. "Aye. That you could, which reminds me of the importance of caution whenever I do what I did. I hope you'll agree this is a matter of some urgency once I've had the chance to explain."

"I am curious," Blödhgarm admitted.

Grintuk wasted no time. "Before the other Riders left several weeks ago, Varhog found me out here in the Cave teaching the next dragon destined for the Urgralgra our language. He sought me for advice on his dilemma with Willow. Our discussion turned to the predicament presented by the Urgal King Kulkarvek. Do you know of him?"

"Only his name," Blödhgarm said. "That we elves know so little of him is evidence of his mysterious, secluded nature."

"Indeed. And for decades that has been the best way to describe his reign. But in more recent years, he has grown more restless, especially since dragons began hatching for the Urgralgra and more human Dragon Riders have been chosen. He hates humans and dragons with a fiery, burning passion and wants to wipe them all off the face of the land, much like Galbatorix wanted to do with our race. But no one really knows the reason why. After Varhog left, one of the Eldunarí unexpectedly spoke to me and said, 'Beware Kulkarvek. He is a formidable threat to a dragon. I died, that is, my flesh body was killed, at his hand, and for many years thereafter, I was a prisoner to his wicked will.' I was stunned and asked the dragon's name, but she didn't respond again. It has been nagging me ever since. I've come here on several occasions to attempt to learn the dragon's identity, but she has never opened up again. I know you are more familiar with the Eldunarí than anyone so I hoped you would be able to shed some light on this. I can't help but feel that knowing what she meant will be important, for some reason."

"Undoubtedly," Blödhgarm agreed. "Would you share with me your memory of the dragon's words so I can hear her voice? That might be enough for me to tell you her name. You didn't recognize her then?"

"No, not at all. She wasn't one of the Eldunarí that usually interact with and train the Riders, and she sounded like some of the other dragons who were held hostage by Galbatorix."

"Interesting." Blödhgarm was silent while Grintuk quickly shared the brief message of the Eldunarí. The elf stiffened, incredulously shaking his head. "I believe that was Jarnunvösk, Galbatorix's first dragon, who was killed by Urgals."

"Truly?" Grintuk said in astonishment. "She was killed by Kulkarvek?"

"So it would appear," Blödhgarm said. "I wonder what this could mean. She mentioned she was a prisoner to Kulkarvek's wicked will for many years after, but we found her in Galbatorix's stash."

"It helps explain why Kulkarvek hated Galbatorix so much," Grintuk mused. "At least, it partly does. I'm assuming Galbatorix sought some sort of revenge for the death of his first dragon, and the Urgal king has long appeared to be possessed by demons of past tragedies so painful as to be paralyzing."

"Does Kulkarvek have abilities with magic?" Blödhgarm asked.

"He does," Grintuk verified, "and it's how he made himself grow so huge. Perhaps it's also why he's so old, but he doesn't seem to want to live. I've never come across a more miserable being than King Kulkarvek."

"I will try to communicate with Jarnunvösk," Blödhgarm said. "Perhaps she will shed more light on this situation. Right now it feels as if we've merely unearthed far more questions than answers." He mentally reached toward Jarnunvösk's consciousness, including Grintuk in his effort, but was met only with stern silence. Since he knew which Eldunarí he was attempting to converse with, Blödhgarm went over to the ladder, climbed up to the second tier of shelves, and walked along the narrow ledge in front of the depressions in the cave wall. He stopped at the appropriate location and reached out a hand, gently resting it on the surface of the dim heart of hearts and trying once again. _Jarnunvösk. It is I, Blödhgarm. Will you not speak with me, wise one?_

There was no response from the Eldunarí, not even the vaguest acknowledgement.

"Perhaps it would help if I leave," Grintuk suggested. "I _am_ of the same race as her murderer after all. Maybe she doesn't like that I'm here."

"It wouldn't hurt," Blödhgarm agreed. "Though she did initiate a mental message with you before. Wait for me at the mouth of the Cave. I'll be out if or when I learn something useful."

Grintuk turned to leave, and when he emerged, he sat across from the opening to the Cave with his back to a tree. He clasped his hands to keep himself from wringing them, but he didn't have much time to organize his confused thoughts before Blödhgarm exited the Cave.

Grintuk quickly stood, asking, "Anything?"

"Nothing," Blödhgarm replied. "She barely has any will to live. I'm sorry I did not prove more helpful."

"You actually did," Grintuk said. "It's true there are many more questions now than before, but at least we know Kulkarvek was responsible for the death of Galbatorix's first dragon. I think I should make the others aware of this. I know Firesword intended to visit Carvahall during their trip, and that's one of the closest human villages to Anghelm. If several dragons suddenly show up in such close proximity to Kulkarvek, it could mean far more trouble than it's worth."

"I agree. Will you scry them?"

"Yes, later today even. I suppose I ought to wait until a decent hour, since it's much earlier where they are, so far west of us. And I should also take into account that Firesword might be otherwise occupied until midafternoon." Grintuk chuckled, and Blödhgarm joined him with an amused growl. "Perhaps I'll try to get some sleep and scry them before I go to bed this evening. That should be plenty of time. Thank you, Blödhgarm."

"Not at all, Grintuk. Farewell." The elf loped off into the darkness, and Grintuk slowly returned to his room. Though his mind was not any easier than before, at least one mystery was solved, and he was finally able to drift off into an exhausted, fitful sleep.

-:-:-:-

* * *

 **A/N:** The following chapter contains mature discussion and/or description of intimacy.


	22. Experiment

**22\. Experiment**

Willow woke up first, finding they were in exactly the same position as when they had fallen asleep, all the way down to the connection of their bodies. Sunlight streamed underneath the curtains covering the windows. Though Varhog was still asleep and she didn't want to disturb him, Willow couldn't resist stretching. Her body was exceedingly sore and stiff from all of the exertions of the previous day.

As Willow stretched, she winced as the connection between them loosened. It had solidified somewhat as the fluid from Varhog's release and her fertility had dried in the hair on that part of her body. Thinking about her fertility made her curious, and she reached with her mind for her womb and surrounding organs, quickly discovering countless infinitesimal specks of vibrant energy within her body. Could those be Varhog's reproductive cells? She was amazed by how alive they seemed though they were so miniscule. Willow continued her search and soon identified a comparatively huge spark of light that seemed to be pulsating. She noticed the struggle of the first flecks of energy as they bombarded the larger one. Were their reproductive cells joining as she observed them with her mind? If they were, it was the genesis of a new life, even that of a child.

The thought filled Willow with wonder, and she kept her focus where it was, becoming more convinced with every passing minute that a baby was beginning to form in her body.

Suddenly she felt Sunset in her mind, surprisingly near. _Sunshine! Are you all right? I can sense you are_ now, _but last night was so wide ranging. You blocked me, unconsciously I could tell, but I could still feel the powerful emotions you felt. Your pleasure! It was ecstasy. Your pain! It was immense. Your devastation! It broke my heart. What happened? I was so worried, I told Arya. She might ask you about it. I am sorry, sunshine. I did not mean to intrude on such a personal moment, but it was the most pain, physical and emotional, I have ever felt you in. I thought only to feel joy and satisfaction from you, so feeling the rest had me beside myself. It was all Black Thunder could do to keep me from burning your hut down, though he felt his fair share of emotions from Varhog._

Willow smiled at her dragon's torrential concern and shared what had happened the night before, finding it provided a strange, cathartic sort of healing.

 _Oh, sunshine. I am so sorry,_ Sunset consoled _. No wonder you felt as you did. It must have almost destroyed you that he nearly left. Good he did not. He would be a pile of ash by now, thanks to me, once I found out how he shattered your heart. And then_ I _probably would be, thanks to Black Thunder, for destroying his Rider. What a mess we would be in._

Willow couldn't help but laugh, then she quickly bit her tongue so she wouldn't awaken Varhog. He had been through just as much—if not more, at least physically—the day before. She wanted him to rest as long as he needed. To reassure Sunset she was perfectly recovered, Willow showed her what she had discovered happening in her body.

Sunset's wonder matched her own. _Can it be?_ she asked.

 _I_ think _so, but I suppose it will take time to know for sure. See how the larger speck—I feel certain it's the egg, my own reproductive cell—has already blocked out the other specks? They're stuck in its outer shell. Those must be his reproductive cells, and one must have already joined the egg and fulfilled its purpose, fertilizing the egg and creating a new life. It has already begun to change, the energy congregating near the center of the mass. It's so amazing, I can hardly believe it._

Sunset stayed with her, and Willow was glad she had someone to share with who was equally as mesmerized. Still, she was eager for Varhog to awaken so she could get his insight and share her joy.

Varhog stirred after some time, and, with something to occupy her so totally, Willow was glad she hadn't prematurely wakened him. He noticed her preoccupation and began to ask about it, but his voice stuck in his throat and he coughed to clear it.

Willow smiled up at him and said, "Wait here." She sprang up, darted to the kitchen, retrieved the basket, and returned to him in about five seconds. She sat down next to him on the great bed and pulled the cloth off the top, searching the basket until she found what she was looking for. She grabbed the water skin with a look of triumph and handed it to him.

Varhog gratefully accepted it, raising himself up enough to drain the whole thing. "I hope there's another one for you," he said apologetically.

"Yes," Willow said, finding it and taking a drink herself. "There. Now you can speak, so what were you going to say?"

"I only wanted to ask how you were. You seemed distracted." Varhog lay back down, pulling another pillow over to prop his head up.

Willow climbed on top of him, straddling his chest. "Here, give me one of your hands." Varhog obliged, and she held it over the area she had been mentally exploring. "Focus with your mind right here," she eagerly instructed. "Tell me what you think."

Varhog did as she asked, keeping his eyes fixed on hers as they slowly widened. "Is that what I think it is?"

Willow nodded excitedly. "I think so. What else could it be? I knew I was fertile and have been for a few days. Arya explained all about it to me. It seems the only logical explanation. Which means we'll be parents!" She smiled then laughed, both expressions bubbling over with delight.

Varhog sat up, sliding her down his chest so she rested comfortably on his lap. His smile was as happy as she had ever seen it. "This is wonderful indeed, Eartheyes. To know we'll be parents so soon is a beautiful gift. Most wouldn't know for many more weeks. I suppose the only disadvantage is that it will feel like we have to wait that much longer until the child is ready to be born."

"It won't be so bad," Willow said lightly. "Not with all of the fun things we can now do together to keep us busy." Without thinking, Willow planted a joyful kiss on his lips, her eyes widening as she remembered why that might not have been the best thing to do as a casual expression of happiness. The burning passion filled her heart and soul, body and mind, and she couldn't remove her lips from his, nor did she care, so far-gone was her reason already.

"Mmm," she murmured into his neck, where she buried her face as the ecstasy washed over her a few moments later. Varhog was breathing heavily, his body hot and flushed. "Oops," she giggled. "I'm going to have to be more careful than that. If I accidentally kiss you outside when others are around, they might not thank me."

Varhog was able to laugh with her. "Aye, we'll need to remember. Maybe it will get less powerful with time. I mean the reaction to the kissing. I don't know if the rest will get less powerful if we live to do it a million times."

"Which we very well might," Willow said with a mesmerized look as she contemplated the idea. "I have no problem with that."

"Nor I," Varhog agreed.

She pulled back to look at him, an impish look in her eyes. "Are you hungry? I mean for food?"

"Aye," he said. "Is there anything in that basket?"

"Yes, plenty. After we eat, I want to try an experiment. Are you open to that?"

"If it involves you and me and more kissing, then I'm open to it," Varhog replied with a grin.

"Exactly my line of thinking," she agreed.

They ate and joked. He tickled her, and she squealed. They moved about freely in their nakedness, neither minding in the least. As she stepped over the dress she had worn, she said, "I'm glad you made me go with your mother and Myrin last night. If you had told me they were taking me to clean me up and dress me in fancy, revealing negligee, I would have never relented. But wearing that and seeing the way you looked at me made me feel so feminine. I never would have felt the same wearing my dirty, stinky leather clothes and boots. Thank you. That's another beautiful custom of your people."

Varhog smiled. She was by his side again, and after moving her hair around to drape over the front of her shoulder, he pulled her onto his lap with her back against his chest. "I'm glad you went. I too felt in dire need of a bath. The layer of dried sweat was so thick, I could see the salt on my skin. I think that would have irritated you as much as my bristles. Did your spell work, by the way? Your skin appears to be as smooth and beautiful as ever." This he said while stroking over one of her breasts, making her shiver.

"Yes, it worked perfectly. I felt no irritation, only pleasure, at the rough feel of your hide."

"And I'll always treasure my memory of you in that dress," Varhog added. "I don't know how I missed you grow into a beautiful, shapely woman right before my eyes, but I was thickheaded enough not to realize how amazing your body is. That dress made me crazy. Your breasts surprised me the most. They're so full and attractive. The dress left very little to my imagination, but my imagination never would have come up with something as good as the reality, before the evidence was so plainly before me. I'm sorry I eyed you in such a manner when I first saw you."

"No apologies necessary, sweetheart," Willow assured him. "I was elated to see my body have such an effect on you. It has become tall and strong as a Rider. I never thought I'd one day have a figure that would please a man. As I said last night, I'm sure we can thank the rigorous demands of our long courtship. I would have never gotten all this muscle if I hadn't wrestled with an Urgal every day."

Varhog chuckled, and Willow felt the vibration through her whole body. Since they were finished eating and otherwise attending to their more basic needs, he said, "So tell me about this experiment you had in mind."

"Gladly. I simply wish to see if we can resist the effects of our kissing, and if we try, what will happen. And if we can kiss anywhere on the other's body without causing the same result, or if all kisses equal the same thing. For example, yesterday when we got married, you kissed the backs of my hands and I yours, and we didn't feel the unbearable demands that we make love immediately. That's all I had in mind."

Willow felt and heard another rumble of amusement, and Varhog said, "I like the sound of this. How shall we begin?"

"Why don't you start by kissing me on the back of my neck and shoulders?" Willow suggested. "You'll know soon enough how it affects me."

So Varhog did as she suggested, and after a time, Willow breathlessly cried, "Good! That's enough. Well done, Yelloweyes. You make a fine scientist." His deep sound of amusement only increased the passion his kisses had excited, but she was still able to resist in a way she hadn't been able to when their lips touched.

Varhog turned her around to face him. "That was the best experiment I've ever conducted."

"Well, it has only just begun," Willow replied. "And while it felt marvelous, I still feel I'm able to resist the desire to make love to you. Now my turn."

Willow proceeded to imitate his efforts by kissing him repeatedly all over his face and neck, pausing once to ask, "And what is your conclusion thus far?"

Varhog gave her a tight smile, and she saw in his eyes the desire to bring their lips together, but he resisted, which was answer enough. Even so he responded, "In perfect control," with a bark of a laugh at how it sounded because of how aroused he was.

So Willow resumed, exploring as much of his torso as she could, descending down the middle of his abdominal muscles to perform what she expected to be her most trying test yet, with a kiss on the most sensitive area of his body.

Varhog jerked in surprise, muttering, "Eartheyes, you're going to kill me. Do you really expect me to resist _that_?"

Willow laughed. "But it proves that much at least. Though I would never kiss you _there_ in public, the fact that you're still not making love to me has taught us something."

"That I'm insane?" Varhog ventured sarcastically. "I want to so badly, I'm about to break this bed in half."

"But you aren't," Willow insisted. "And that's what I wanted to find out."

"Then kiss me—on my lips—and end this suffering."

Willow laughed again and said, "I suppose you're right. The results of our experiment will not be objective if we attempt to proceed in this manner." She moved back up and leaned down to press her lips to his, opening her mouth to deepen their kiss in yet another new experience.

This brought about the expected chain of events, and once they had succeeded in relieving the insistent longing her experiment had aroused, Varhog sighed in relief. "Thank you, Eartheyes. Trying to resist that was almost painful."

"I'm sorry," Willow said contritely. "Are you ready for your next contribution to this great scientific endeavor?"

Varhog smiled at her adoringly. "I don't know how I keep loving you more. I think it will never be possible to feel more strongly and deeply than I do, then suddenly I do. It happens with alarming frequency, you know."

Willow kissed him carefully _next_ to his mouth. "That was romantic," she informed him, so he would realize how his honest expression affected her.

"Was it? Well, I'm surprising myself more and more with my romantic gestures. And yes, by the way. I'm ready for my next assignment. Your wish is my command."

Willow smiled with the same look of adoration in her eyes. "Very well. Now you must experiment by kissing _my_ front. And I give you permission to be as creative as you wish."

And so he was. Willow was unprepared for how enjoyable it would be, and at one point, Varhog paused to ask, as she had, "And what is your conclusion thus far?"

Willow tried to reply but only a high sounding "hmm" came out. On her second attempt she managed, "This feels more amazing than anything you have yet done, save perhaps joining our bodies. But even _that_ , as incredible as it feels, didn't excite me like _this._ I suspect the combination of the two would bring about my immediate climax and total release."

Varhog raised his eyebrows, obviously finding her conclusion invaluable. "Is that so? Well, if I learn nothing else from this experiment, _that_ alone will have made it worth it."

Varhog then resumed his efforts, and their next discovery astonished them both. Sometime later—surely a couple of hours—when their hearts were pounding painfully in their chests from their long exertion, and their breathing was ragged, and their throats were dry, and their bodies and the bed were soaked with sweat, and their mouths were sore from their long and passionate exchange, Willow wrenched herself away from him and lay gasping by his side.

Before she had fully recovered she demanded, " _How_ was that possible?"

"Because you are the mate of a fearless Urgal ram," Varhog said, echoing her words from the previous night.

Willow smiled, turning on her side to face him, and he mirrored her movements. She closed her eyes and placed her hand over her heart, breathing deeply in an effort to calm her frenzied body. She then moved it to her throat, massaging with a pained expression on her face.

Earlier Varhog had retrieved a jug of water and two glasses from the kitchen, leaving them on the bedside table, and he now sat up to grab one, filling it with water before handing it to her. Willow accepted it and drank gratefully. "Thank you, Varhog. I think we had best not tell the others about that. They have no hope of besting us. You didn't happen to keep track, did you? Perhaps it would nonetheless be worthy motivation for them."

Varhog grinned, shaking his head as he drained his own glass. "No, Eartheyes, unfortunately I didn't," he said when he finished, setting the glass back down. "I fear even _we_ may have a hard time besting our own record, and here we are on only our first day together."

"That was something I never expected," Willow commented. "Do you think it continued simply because you're an Urgal ram? Or was it because we kept kissing? Must we go through that again just to learn the answer? This experiment might leave me too weary to ever use our newfound knowledge again!" She rubbed her fingers over her lips. "My lips feel swollen and numb," she mused. "Do they look different?"

Varhog chuckled. "They _do_ look slightly swollen, but they're already so temptingly full, it's hard to tell. Do mine? Now that you mention it, they _are_ tingling somewhat from all of that unusual and exhausting exercise."

Willow laughed again. "I could say the same for you, handsome. They're already so full, I don't really notice a difference. I already want to kiss them again, however, if that means anything. Good thing my experiment will continue to require it."

"You know, I quite like this experiment. I think we have safely ascertained that I ought _not_ to kiss your breasts in public, lest everyone around quail and quiver in the wake of our mighty and endless lovemaking."

Willow smiled blissfully, snuggling into his chest. "A sound and wise conclusion, Varhog," she approved in a tone of mock solemnity. "Yes, I suppose we did learn _that_ particular kiss from you leaves me quite without any resemblance of self-control. I think I must be part Urgal. Where _did_ I learn to vocalize like that? I was embarrassed at first but couldn't care anymore after a time. It's simply what had to be done. Then you reassured me you liked it and that settled it. Though when I'm distanced from this moment, I'm sure I'll reflect back with a certain degree of mortification."

"I hope you won't," Varhog earnestly insisted, tightening his arms around her. "It was the purest expression of your enjoyment and pleasure, nothing to be ashamed of. It made you seem both vulnerable and powerful at the same time."

"And that's exactly how I felt," Willow agreed. "I'm glad this is the same for Urgals as other races. Better, even. But I'm hungry again. And for the first time, _only_ for food, as much as I hate to admit it."

"That is as it should be, Eartheyes," Varhog said. "Have we finished your experiment then?" He looked as if he hoped she would say no.

Which she did. "No, Yelloweyes. I can no longer say we have only begun, but we still have many interesting hypotheses to test. Let's eat first. I'd find it hard to believe if you weren't also hungry for food after that. I daresay it was more intense than fighting almost all of the rams in your clan and two dozen females besides."

"It was. And it took a lot more out of me," Varhog added, refilling his glass and draining it again.

Willow leaned away to choose some food from the selection in the basket, which was on the floor by the bed. But as she did, she asked in a conversational tone, "Did you know all of those females you fought? If it can be called fighting. It reminded me of how pathetic I was when we first started practicing. They never stood a chance, did they?"

"No, they didn't," Varhog agreed. "You only came to gain your current skill and mastery through constant practicing and dogged determination. I did know them all, Eartheyes. Many of the ones closer to my age sought me as a mate before I left. I'm surprised some of them are still single. That's unusual for our people. Most take mates before they're twenty-three or four. The younger ones would have only been children nine years ago. They must have simply heard about me and thought having a Dragon Rider as a mate would give them some sort of prestige. I've already told you I wasn't interested in any of them. Perhaps I sensed I had important things in my future, things that would have been more difficult if I had already had a mate. Or perhaps my soul just knew it hadn't yet met the woman it truly longed for."

She laughed, scooting back over to his side while she said, "Well, too bad for them. At least they got to feel the strength of your arms around them once, even if it was only for a moment and while being forced to admit defeat. Though they might never be satisfied with another ram as a result."

Varhog grinned. "You truly do enjoy being with me?"

She scoffed, glaring at him. "I'm still hungry! How _dare_ you ask me a question like that, one that requires my defiant streak to _prove_ to you just how much I enjoy being with you? How could you even doubt, Varhog?" she demanded.

"Sorry!" he quickly said, trying to placate her. "I don't know what came over me. Some lingering vestiges of the long argument I had with myself for why you would never accept or want to be with me, I suppose. You _have_ proven, Willow, and made undeniably clear to every one of my senses, just how much you love being with me. And I hope you have also been able to feel just how _very_ much I love being with you."

"Yes," she said, mollified. "Aren't you glad you didn't leave last night?"

A frown darkened his face, and Varhog quietly said, "I never apologized. I think I might have for hurting you, and I know you already forgive me, but I need to say this. I'm so sorry I almost said what I said, an unforgivable oath in the ancient language. I'm so sorry I almost walked out on you and abandoned you and our child. I'd already be back, begging forgiveness, if I had, as desolate as it would have made me feel.

"But I was totally unprepared for how it would affect you. I thought you would want me gone after I hurt you. I don't know why I thought that. I hurt and healed you before when we practiced fighting, but doing it unconsciously in a moment of uncontrolled passion that was supposed to leave you only relaxed and content just seemed so different. I'll never forget the heartbroken look in your eyes, no matter how many times I see the opposite look from here forward. I'll always remember it, just as I'll always remember how you looked in that dress. Not as a treasured memory, but as a necessary and painful reminder of the power love gives us to hurt the ones we love more profoundly than anyone else." He paused, taking her hands and adding with deepest humility, "Will you please forgive me, Willow?"

Willow placed one hand on his cheek and stroked softly, wanting to wipe away the pain, as she had the night before. "I will. I forgive you, Varhog. Thank you for your apology. You're right that I had already forgiven you, but hearing that from you and being able to say the words helps me process the pain and move on. I can leave it behind now. It must have still been festering, if only subconsciously, for me to bring it up as I did just then. I'm sorry to mar our happy moment."

"You needn't apologize. It was only marred because I created the situation in the first place. I'm glad you brought it up. Something that threatening needs to be discussed. It can't just be pushed aside and expected to disappear with some passionate lovemaking."

Willow nodded, and they finished eating in relative silence, more thoughtful and somewhat weary. When she noticed that she felt drowsy, Willow said, "I want to continue our experiment, but I'm tired. Can I first rest so I'll have my full strength for my next tests? I fear I'll need all I can get for what I have in mind."

Varhog was so tender and understanding. With a look that conveyed both emotions, he took her in his arms and said, "Of course, Willow. I'm also weary. I hope you never feel you must satisfy my desires over your own needs. Just today I've had enough satisfaction to last me for weeks."

She giggled softly, already slipping away, and murmured, "No, not weeks. Maybe a few hours. I love you . . ." Then she was gone, warm and comfortable in his arms, secure in his love and promise to always remain with her.

-:-:-:-


	23. Best Friends

**23\. Best Friends**

Back in the main part of the Urgralgra village, Eragon and Arya took their time starting their day. It had been an interesting night for them. Their keen elven ears had picked up the many sounds of passion surrounding them through the better part of the entire night, and it had served as powerful inspiration for them. Their waking dreams had not found them until just before dawn, so they didn't awaken until closer to midday.

"It's so nice to be able to sleep in like that," Arya mumbled as she stretched languidly next to his side, where she was snuggling in contentment.

"Aye," Eragon agreed. "I never thought I'd live to experience a night like that. This is quite the place, isn't it?"

"Indeed," she said with a laugh. "Didn't you notice when you once visited all those years ago? It seems such sounds would have been hard to miss."

Eragon chuckled. "I didn't have the sense then to pass on the Urgal wine. I must have been intoxicated. I dozed off during the retelling of one of their famous battles."

"I've never seen you drink in the time since we have been reunited," Arya thoughtfully said. "Don't you anymore?"

"Rarely," Eragon answered. "I've come to prefer milder drinks over the years. We grow such amazing food on the Isle, I feel I get all I need simply eating the whole foods."

"I see," Arya said, returning to the previous topic by adding, "Did you get the feeling some of them carried on all night with no repose?"

"That's exactly how it seemed. Do you wish I could produce such formidable sounds?"

Arya laughed again. "Why don't you try, then I'll tell you?"

Eragon grinned before trying to reproduce the deep rumbling sounds that had surrounded them all night. His efforts, though admirable, were woefully inadequate, but his true purpose in attempting was only to hear Arya laugh again, at which he most definitely succeeded. By the time she finally begged him to stop, she was laughing so hard that she clutched her abdomen with a pained expression on her face and tears streaming from her eyes.

"Well?" Eragon wondered in amusement. "How did I do?"

"Eragon," she gasped. "No one has ever been able to make me laugh so hard. It's painful. And while your efforts were most commendable, my husband, I'm afraid they still fell short of the mark."

Eragon frowned in mock discouragement but his eyes twinkled merrily as he said, "I'm quite sure some of those sounds came from the females. Why don't you have a turn?"

"No!" Arya objected. "I already know I can't make any such noises, and I won't provide you the gratification of seeing me blush in embarrassment at trying."

"Alas!" Eragon cried. "You have me figured out already, my wife. I'll win that blush yet." His stomach rumbled impressively, as their last meal had been at the wedding feast the evening before. He raised his eyebrows with a triumphant grin on his face. "There we go!" he exclaimed, giving his belly a grateful pat. "I knew I was capable of imitating those sounds, only with my stomach not my chest."

Arya laughed again, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Let's go eat. I'm hungry too." They got up and quickly dressed before making their way to the kitchen of the hut they had been shown to the previous night.

"These huts are really quite nice, aren't they?" Arya observed, opening several cupboards to examine the selection of food.

"That they are," Eragon agreed. He saw some oatmeal, so he found a pan and filled it with water from a jug on the counter, setting it on the stove and using magic to heat it to boiling. "I remember feeling the same surprise when I came here over ten years ago to suggest the Games and the revised pact to Garzhvog and the Herndall. I think I expected a one-room tent or even a lean-to. The accommodations aren't as modern or convenient as on the Isle, in Ilirea, or Ellesméra, but they certainly aren't as uncivilized as I thought they would be."

Arya added the dry oatmeal to the water and found some honey, so she pulled it out to use as a sweetener. There were some fresh apples on the counter and she cut up a couple to also add. Eragon discovered a cupboard full of seasonings and spices, and he searched through them until he came across cinnamon.

"They're also so spacious," Arya commented. "I'm not sure why I would have expected anything different, since the Urgralgra are so large, but the doors, ceilings, and hallways are all so tall." She grabbed a handful of nuts from a bowl on one of the counters and popped a few into her mouth. When she had swallowed, she said, "I need to use the washroom."

Eragon saw an opportunity to earn the desired blush, but when he looked at Arya, he knew she anticipated he would attempt it. He raised his eyebrows innocently. "Don't worry, my love. I won't listen."

Arya blushed, as they both knew she would, then stomped her foot impatiently. "I tried so hard not to," she complained. "Why is it that we can make love all night and I never even bat an eyelash, no matter what either one of us does, but at the slightest mention of relieving myself, you can provoke a blush with an innocent look of your face?"

Eragon shrugged. "It doesn't make any sense, does it? But I'll always be grateful for my secret weapon. You'd best hurry." He grinned. "We wouldn't want to have to clean up an accident right before breakfast." He laughed as she blushed again and shoved him. He simply caught her hands and squeezed her tightly to his chest. "I love you, beautiful woman," he said, gently kissing each of her cheeks, whereon the lovely color bloomed.

"Be right back," Arya murmured.

Eragon knew the oatmeal wouldn't keep him full for longer than half an hour, so he set about preparing more food. He hummed softly to himself so he really wouldn't hear anything from the washroom, but he was sure Arya had never made any impolite sounds while relieving herself. He knew it was most likely the result of eating only plants all of her long life. Since he had adapted the diet himself, he had never again had indigestion, though he sometimes occasionally wished he would. He knew certain symptoms of indigestion would definitely make Arya blush, though they might also make _him_ blush if he was in her presence.

"What are _you_ doing?" Arya asked upon her return, slipping her arms around him from behind.

"Keeping my promise and not listening," Eragon replied, smiling as she giggled. "And cooking some eggs so I have a hope of staying full for the next hour."

"Good idea," she said. "I'm starving."

They sat down to eat not long after and were silent for the first part of the meal, at least for the most part. Eragon kept trying to make Arya laugh by pulling silly faces, and he was once again successful, so the relative silence was interrupted by occasional laughter.

When they had taken the edge off their hunger, they slowed down, but Eragon kept picking at the food with his fingers. "So you don't have to put any away," he offhandedly explained when Arya eyed him with a pointed, slightly disapproving stare.

"So _I_ don't have to put it away?" Arya returned.

"That's right, woman," Eragon teased gruffly, quickly adding, "Only joking, my love. I'm sure I can clean up better than you anyway, since I didn't have servants waiting on me hand and foot for the last decade. So the truth is, I'm making my own job easier in my laziness."

Arya harrumphed into her glass, and Eragon grinned, picking up the plate the eggs had been on and licking it clean while staring at her defiantly.

"Eragon, please," she chided. "Use some manners."

"What?" he defended as if affronted. "This isn't good enough? I thought I'd be efficient—finish off the food and clean the plate at the same time."

Arya laughed. "You're impossible."

"This is how we always cleaned dishes on the Isle," Eragon said with affected sullenness. Then he laughed too. "You know I'm only goading you."

"Of course," Arya said lightly. "And I love you all the more for it. It's fun being married to my best friend."

"That's sweet, my love. Do you really think of me as your best friend?"

"How else would I think of you?"

"Well, I already know you consider me the handsomest man of your acquaintance and the wisest, noblest, kindest, bravest being in existence. And the most fantastic lover in the world . . ." Arya rolled her eyes, and he chuckled. "That's not quite it, is it?"

"No, that's exactly right, and I could add to your list, but I wouldn't want you to float away in your inflated state. Do you not think of me as your friend?"

Eragon scoffed. "Don't be silly, Arya. There's no question you're the closest friend I've ever had. My feelings simply started out more as infatuation, and the friendship came after, when I realized the romance wouldn't happen when or how I hoped, if ever. And after the friendship developed, the love only grew stronger, at least on my end of the equation. I've never admired anyone as much as I do you, Arya, nor have I ever enjoyed someone's company as much. I agree. It's wonderful being married to my best friend." He reached out, taking her hand and smiling. "But _you_ are the most fantastic lover in the world, just so there's no confusion."

"There never was in my mind," Arya said mildly.

Eragon laughed again. "Good. Speaking of best friends, how do you suppose Willow and Varhog are doing? Though we've known each other longer, their friendship actually had more time to develop and deepen while the two in question were constantly together."

Arya's brow creased in worry. "I've actually been concerned about them," she confessed. "Late last night Sunset touched my mind, absolutely distraught over whatever was going on with Willow. She couldn't reach Willow, and Black Thunder couldn't reach Varhog, but both of their Riders were experiencing some kind of emotional upheaval and not only in a positive sense. Sunset said after the anticipated pleasure, Willow was in excruciating pain followed closely by the most powerful emotional devastation Sunset had ever felt from her, even after her father died. She was so worried she told me—apologetically, of course—but I don't know what I should do, if anything."

"That's troubling," Eragon said. "Perhaps you could try reaching Sunset now to see if things have improved at all."

"Good idea," Arya said. "I will right now." She was silent as she searched with her mind for Willow's dragon then mentally conversed with her for a moment. When Arya spoke again, it was with a look of noticeable relief on her face. "Sunset said that Willow is doing amazingly now and she has never felt her so happy. Varhog too. They're resting." Arya smiled. "That was easy. Thank you, darling. That put my mind at ease on the matter."

"My pleasure," Eragon murmured, looking up as a knock sounded on their door. He stood and crossed to open it. "Murtagh," he greeted. "Your Majesty. To what do we owe this honor?" He stepped aside to allow the newcomers to enter.

"We hoped you would have some lunch left," Murtagh joked.

Eragon grinned. "Lunch? We just finished breakfast. It was an . . . _interesting_ night. Don't you think? Or maybe we only noticed with our elven hearing."

Murtagh and Nasuada laughed. "Oh no, brother," Murtagh said. "We most certainly noticed. One would have to be deaf to miss the amazing symphony that graced our ears all night. How did they keep at it so long? We'll have to consult with Varhog. Though maybe we shouldn't, at least not with our wives present. They might come to regret their decision to marry simple humans and begin to think Willow was the one with the right idea."

Nasuada shook her head firmly. "Wrong, my dear. I would guess the female Urgals also have some advantages that allow them to keep up with their tireless rams. I can only imagine getting exhausted if we attempted to copy them. Although we _did_ do our best last night, didn't we?"

Murtagh cleared his throat and colored, at which Nasuada smiled in amusement. "This place is having a good effect on you, dear," he dryly commented.

"Most assuredly," Nasuada agreed. "I promised you our honeymoon wouldn't end after that first day, and I have been true to my word. We have unwittingly found ourselves in the one location where honeymoons seem never to end, no matter how many years a couple has been married or how long they have been intimately engaged in a given night. It's perfect! Who needs an exotic getaway when there are Urgralgra villages spread across the land?"

Murtagh wrapped his arms around her. "Who indeed?" he said wryly. "But we've come for another reason," he continued. "Grintuk just scryed me and said he had some important news, but he wanted us to be together first. He explained he hadn't wanted to interrupt you when there was a chance he might catch you otherwise occupied, but when he learned _I_ got married less than a week ago, he was most apologetic." Murtagh snickered. "You really started something, brother. How glad I am you did. Now the other Riders will be more anxious than ever to join our ranks as happily married men."

"Did we ever tell you that the egg for the elves hatched for a female?" Arya asked. "We found out the first day of your honeymoon, when no one would have dared come searching for you."

"No, I hadn't heard," Murtagh replied. "Well, there you have it. Perfect opportunity for Hanin. Did you get to meet her?"

"Yes, and she was impossibly gorgeous. Hanin already appeared to be smitten with her. Both Willow and I noticed it."

Murtagh smiled dryly. "Next will be Grintuk, just wait. Or Knilf. Which is as it should be, if you ask me. No one should wait around to get married. Not when being married is easily the best thing in the world." He kissed the top of Nasuada's head.

"I couldn't agree more," Arya said fervently. "Eragon and I were just discussing that."

"I'm sure Willow and Varhog agree," Murtagh said with a sly wink.

"I hope so," Arya said. "Sunset was beside herself with worry last night after some unexpected emotions from Willow, but all appears to be well now."

"Ah," Murtagh said carefully. "I hope you're right. Varhog is impossibly strong. I suppose there could have been some accident."

"That's what I thought too," Arya admitted.

"Well, shall we hear what Grintuk has to say?" Eragon said.

"Certainly," Murtagh said. "I've been curious. Nothing seems to unsettle Grintuk, but he was definitely worried about something."

"Really? Let's not delay then. Let me get the larger mirror from the washroom so we can see him better."

Eragon quickly retrieved the mirror, set it up on the table, and cast the spell. Grintuk was waiting at the mirror in the Great Hall on the Isle.

"Firesword," Grintuk greeted. "Thank you for getting right back to me. I've been anxiously waiting all day for what I hoped would be an appropriate time where you are."

"That was considerate, Grintuk," Eragon replied. "We just experienced our first night in an Urgralgra village and we got to sleep a bit late. I'm sure you understand."

The Kull chortled. "Indeed I do. There's nothing like an Urgal village at night. They're all the same. Our hot blood doesn't only express itself in a propensity for violence."

"Our observations precisely," Eragon agreed. "So Murtagh said you have some news you seemed uneasy about. Enlighten us, my friend."

Grintuk prefaced his news with the same explanation he had given Blödhgarm the night before, about him and Varhog in the Cave of the Eldunarí and the strange message from the mysterious Eldunarí. "Blödhgarm met me to see if he could help me figure out which dragon had addressed me. And he immediately recognized the dragon's voice as that of Jarnunvösk, Galbatorix's first dragon, who, as everyone knows, was killed by Urgals. It just so happens King Kulkarvek is the Urgal responsible for the dragon's death, and he also somehow kept her captive as an Eldunarí for many years after." Grintuk paused.

The others were dumbstruck. "But that means this king would have to be well over a hundred years old," Nasuada breathed. "How is that possible?"

"He _is_ a spellcaster," Grintuk said. "No one really knows how strong he is with magic, but he's obviously strong enough to subject an Eldunarí to his will, as Galbatorix did. But even then, no other Urgralgra magician has achieved immortality through his abilities, as the elves have. And the Eldunarí is no longer in his possession, which has undoubtedly weakened his skill. I'm aware that this knowledge raises far more questions than it answers, but I thought it prudent to warn you, since you intended to visit Carvahall. That's one of the closest human villages to Anghelm, and the presence of so many dragons that close to the king might spell trouble."

"Thank you, Grintuk," Eragon said earnestly. "We greatly appreciate this information. In fact, Her Majesty Nasuada—you know, Murtagh's new wife—hoped to discuss the matter here with Varhog's uncle, Nar Garzhvog, during our visit in the village."

"Why _are_ you in Varhog's village?" Grintuk curiously questioned. "All of you, no less? Does it have something to do with Willow and Varhog?"

"Indeed," Eragon said. "Though perhaps it's best if we let you hear it from them. We'll discuss this matter with Nar Garzhvog and scry you again within a week or so to let you know of our further plans. You didn't happen to ask the other Eldunarí about this situation, did you? They were the first ones to warn me of Kulkarvek."

"I did today after feeling rather foolish I'd never thought to before," Grintuk sheepishly admitted. "But it wasn't very helpful. Most of the ones who were stashed away on Vroengard are with you all there. Of those who remain here, most were enslaved by Galbatorix, and none knew why Kulkarvek was such a grave threat or how it came to be that he killed Galbatorix's first dragon."

"Then we'll have to ask Umaroth what he meant when he warned Murtagh to avoid Kulkarvek's lair," Eragon said. "When I first began learning of Eldunarí from Oromis and Glaedr, they told me young Riders were not traditionally taught about the heart of hearts until later in their training, so as to protect the dragons and discourage premature disgorging of the structure. Perhaps Galbatorix had not yet learned of these structures when Jarnunvösk died. When he subsequently did, he may have hoped Jarnunvösk fled into her heart of hearts before dying. I can imagine that if he suspected it existed, he would have searched for her Eldunarí at the location of her death, to ease the pain of losing her. And my father's account of her death implied that she died somewhere far to the north, which may coincide with the location of Anghelm." He paused thoughtfully before changing the subject by asking, "How are the others doing?"

"Fine," Grintuk said. "Tomath's having a splendid time with the dwarves. I try to stay out of their way, though Tomath always wants to practice wrestling with me. He knows he can learn to be a formidable fighter, like Willow has, if he practices enough. It's funny though. He's so small next to me, but he's as determined as anything. We all miss Willow the most. Nothing is as organized without her overseeing everything in the kitchen and meting out assignments. Nor have our meals been as good without her and Varhog always cooking. I might go just as crazy wondering what you're keeping from me as I did worrying over this Eldunarí."

Eragon laughed. "Why don't you and Kuldr make a circuit to the neighboring islands and ensure the wild dragons are doing well? I'd feel better about sending you two than anyone else, since you're the biggest and strongest Rider and dragon left on the Isle. Mating season is getting ready to start and we need to remind them to be careful with the resources so as not to deplete the prey populations too much."

"Gladly," Grintuk agreed. "That will help me keep my mind off things. Nothing like landing among dozens of wild dragons to keep one on their toes. Well, it's getting late and I haven't been sleeping well, so I'm going to go. I'll probably be gone about ten days, but the others will be here if you want to scry sooner. Good night, Firesword. And you others."

They all murmured their good nights, and Eragon ended his spell.

Nasuada said, "We found out on our way here that Nar Garzhvog left early this morning on some business as war chief. He won't return for several days, so we'll necessarily have to postpone this discussion until then."

"Very well," Eragon said. "This Kulkarvek becomes more troublesome and mysterious by the minute. I hope we get to the bottom of it, and quickly. I don't want anyone to come to harm, but it almost sounds like we Dragon Riders are most at risk of an attack."

-:-:-:-

* * *

 **A/N:** The following chapter contains more discussion and/or description of mature love. Willow and Varhog are on their honeymoon, so I guess it's not really that surprising, but I wanted to warn you just the same, so you can skip it if you want.


	24. Uninhibited

**24\. Uninhibited**

After sleeping for a few hours, Varhog awoke first, feeling deeply content and rested. His stamina and strength were far greater than Willow's, and the exercise of that day and the previous one had not taken so much out of him that a perfect night's sleep and little nap would not allow his complete recovery. Since he didn't want to disturb Willow, he remained where he was.

Varhog admired her for a time. He could see one side of her face, and he noticed how long her dark eyelashes looked resting next to her cheek. Her eyebrow arched in a graceful curve and her cheekbone was high and defined. Her lips were full, red, and slightly parted in relaxation. She had a strong jaw but it narrowed as it met her chin, and her face took on a delicate heart shape as a result. Her warm brown hair was thick and shining and fell all over in careless waves. She was devastatingly beautiful, and not only to him. Varhog knew she was extraordinarily lovely for a human.

Then he looked up. The room was a mess, with clothing and the contents of the basket all about them. The bed was in shambles—blankets rumpled and still damp under his body. Varhog shook his head slightly to clear the feeling that he was in a dream. Apart from his complete idiocy of almost leaving the night before and almost swearing he would never touch her again—he shuddered involuntarily at the thought—this time together had been so perfect. The fact that Willow was lying peacefully in his arms was still unbelievable. Just under two months ago, he had despaired she would never see him as more than a friend, let alone agree to become his mate, let alone actually _willingly_ join with him in this amazing experience. He felt so blessed. Someone or something must have felt he was worthy of this great gift, though he couldn't possibly think what he had done to earn it.

Varhog reflected on the strange phenomenon that kissing her created. Perhaps this was what Myrin had meant when she told Willow he would have learned the truth if he hadn't always been by himself. It also fit with what Grintuk had hinted at. The older Urgralgra must teach the growing rams and females about this, which meant it must be the same for all Urgralgra.

Varhog wasn't sure he appreciated it. He had seen Firesword and Murtagh kiss their mates plenty of times, and they _did_ seem to enjoy it, but it was able to be a simple expression of affection when they wanted it to be, rather than a passionate requirement that demanded they join their bodies at once. Varhog wished it could be that way for him and Willow when they wanted.

He thought about what they had observed with their minds inside her body and sought out the energy again, distinguishing it from the vibrant light of her living body. The tiny speck seemed largely unchanged and yet profoundly different. It was still miniscule and unrecognizable, just a blob. But the cells had already matured and divided. How could a whole living, breathing, thinking, moving being develop from two minute specks that joined together after a moment of passion? It forced Varhog to again think about the someone or something that seemed to have a greater design for life than to simply let it happen and hope for the best.

About this time, Willow began to stir. Varhog directed his focus back to her so he could fully appreciate how it felt as she moved and stretched against him, how it sounded to hear her sigh and murmur as she came back to consciousness, and how the still-sweet scent of her hair lingered over the pungent odor of his sweat. He grimaced slightly.

Almost as if she knew what he was thinking, Willow turned her face into his chest, inhaling deeply. "Mmmm," she breathed. "You smell good. I like how musky and masculine it is." Her voice was still thick with sleep.

Varhog sighed as his body began to react with arousal. He tried to take his mind off of it by asking, "You don't think I stink?"

"Mm-mm." This time it was a denial. "I think you smell like a ram who has been making love to me all day, and I like it."

Varhog gritted his fangs. Willow wasn't helping his attempts to distract himself, but why should he? She was inviting him in her word and manner to do it again, or so it seemed to him.

"Would you like me to again?" Varhog hopefully asked.

"More than anything. But first, there _is_ a smell I want to take care of. My mouth has an awful taste in it after eating that cheese and falling asleep right away. Give me a moment, would you?"

"Of course. That's a good idea."

Willow jumped up to search the basket for the items that would help her clean her mouth. Once she found them, she held them up with a proud smile in his direction and swiftly left the room. Varhog got up and followed her.

When he arrived in the washroom, she was in the middle of relieving herself and brushing her teeth at the same time, to be efficient, Varhog supposed. He looked apologetic and turned as if to go, but Willow only grinned at him, waving with her free hand and saying around the brush in her mouth, "Oopth. Didn' 'hink 'ou were comin' righ' away. A'mos' dun." Varhog grinned.

When done, Willow jumped up to wash her hands. Then she finished her job with the brush. Once she had rinsed her mouth and the brush, she said, "That feels much better! Your turn?" and offered it to him.

"You never cease to amaze me, Willow," Varhog said in open admiration, accepting the toothbrush from her. "Aren't you at all embarrassed that I just saw you relieving yourself?"

Willow giggled. "A little, I suppose, but you already had and acting like you hadn't would have only made it more awkward as we both tried to ignore it. It's as basic an instinct as eating and sleeping, part of what it means to be alive, so why be ashamed of it? But if I had to do the other, I might insist on some privacy, if only to spare you the smell."

His amazement only increased. "Does that mean you wouldn't have a problem if I did the same right in front of you?"

"Not at all," Willow assured him. "We've shared as much, if not more, this past day. Has it only been a day? It feels so natural being with you, Varhog. As easy as breathing."

Varhog began to brush his own teeth while relieving himself, as she had done. As Willow smoothed her hair out in front of her reflection in the mirror, she glanced sideways in interest, grinning slyly. He noticed and shrugged, questioningly raising his eyebrows.

"I'm just curious," she said. "I've never seen a man relieve himself. It seems like it would be convenient, since you get to stand and all."

Varhog returned her grin around the brush and held up one finger, indicating he meant to answer her in a moment. When he was finished, he also rinsed his mouth out and set the brush aside. "It _is_ convenient. We can go anywhere we wish while outdoors without even pulling down our pants all the way. One reason of many I'm grateful to be a ram." Then he added, "As it so happens, I seem to need to do the other and I also feel more comfortable with some privacy. I'll empty this pot when I'm done and return to you, fair enough?"

Willow nodded, making a face at herself in the mirror. "I can't do anything with my fingers. It's too tangled. I'll brush my hair while I wait for you."

Varhog requested, "May I? I have often noticed Firesword brush Arya's hair. She seems to enjoy it, and so does he. I can imagine why, since yours is so soft and shining."

Willow smiled and said, "I'd love that. I'll tidy up the room instead. See you when you're done." She left, closing the door behind herself.

Varhog knew he was a lucky ram. He hadn't anticipated Willow's openness to extend to being so uninhibited in this regard. He had a difficult time seeing Arya or Lady Nightstalker doing the same as she had done.

As he left the hut to empty the chamber pot outside, Varhog heard Willow humming to herself and smiled. It already felt like they were a family. He returned to the washroom, where he quickly washed himself with soap and water. In spite of Willow's reassurances, he still thought himself smelly. He briefly regarded himself in the mirror, trying to see in his face what Willow found handsome before giving up. He was a ram. Those things escaped him.

When he entered their room, it was clear she had been quite busy. The room was completely altered from its previous state. His clothes were folded in a neat pile on the chair. The sheets, blankets, and pillows were meticulously straight. All of the contents of the basket were organized once more in their home, empty containers nestled into each other and cloths neatly folded. Everything was orderly and tidy, but Varhog wasn't at all surprised—it was one of Willow's most defining traits.

Willow was once again wearing her dress and standing at one of the windows, which had its curtains pushed aside, leaning out with her hands pressed to Sunset's snout.

Varhog put a finger over his lips when one of Sunset's stunning pink-orange eyes fell on him, silently walking to stand behind Willow and gently slipping his arms around her. She jumped and exclaimed in surprise while Sunset hummed her amusement.

"You startled me," Willow breathed, leaning back into him.

"That was the idea," Varhog murmured in her ear. "You put clothes on?"

"Only because you seemed to like seeing me in it so much, but that was before you saw me out of it, so maybe you won't appreciate it as much now. I know I won't have much cause to wear this dress from here on out, especially as my belly starts to grow in a few months. It's too beautiful to only wear once."

Varhog ran his hands down the front of her body, letting his fingers slide over the laces that crisscrossed over her bare skin so he could feel it underneath. "I agree," he said. "It's too beautiful to wear only once, but it's only beautiful because you're in it. It's almost as soft as your skin." He continued moving his hands up and down her body, and she closed her eyes in contentment.

Sunset's voice suddenly filled their minds. _Thank you for making my sunshine happy, Varhog. You are a good ram and worthy of her. But take care you do not hurt her again. I almost tore your hut down last night to come after her._

Varhog looked remorseful. _I'm sorry I hurt her, as I'm sure you know, from her mind and my own. I'll always do my best to help you protect her. Thank you for sharing her with me._

Sunset blinked her acknowledgement, lifting her head. _You two have a good time. It has been pleasant sharing Willow's mind these past hours, or at least feeling the tone of it._

Willow shut the window to keep the cool evening air out. Then she turned in his arms, stretching on her toes so she could put her arms around his neck. He bent down to make it easier for her. "You washed up?"

"I thought I smelled bad."

"You didn't," she insisted. "But you still smell good. I like how your soap smells like pine and cedar."

"I like how your hair smells like lavender and roses."

"It _does_ smell good," Willow agreed. "I'll have to ask mother how she made that shampoo." She reached up and placed one finger on his chin. "I love this."

"My chin?" he wondered.

"The cleft in it," she clarified, stretching even more so she could kiss it.

"Shall we dance a moment?" Varhog asked. "You _are_ dressed for it." He stood up straight and lifted her with his hands around her waist, lowering her to stand on his feet and encircling her in his arms. Then he began humming, while also stepping around with her feet on his. "You're a good dancer," he joked.

Willow giggled. "I have a good partner." Varhog got more creative, embellishing his playful dance by turning in a circle and dipping her down. After a few minutes, Willow turned her face up, resting her chin on his chest so she could stare straight at him and asking, "Is this something any other Urgal would have thought to do?"

"I don't know. I thought to do it, but I've been strongly influenced in my perceptions of love and affection by humans and elves, who dance often. But there were many things I was wrong about when it came to love with the Urgralgra. Maybe they all dance together in their bedrooms. Though two sets of horns might make it difficult, especially if the female isn't much shorter."

Willow laughed. "Well, whether it's an Urgal way or not, it's very romantic and I love it."

"Good," he said. Then he finished and stood still.

"Do you remember that day in my room before we went to Lake Arya?"

"Of course," Varhog said.

"When you held me and stroked my back to comfort me, it was the first time I knew for sure I loved you. I wished I had an excuse to snuggle in your arms every day. It's my favorite place to be."

"Then that must have been a hard day for you and not only because it was the anniversary of your little brother's death. You were so impatient for me to confess my feelings, weren't you?"

Willow nodded. "Yes, and I couldn't understand why you were so reluctant. I was beginning to think it was because you didn't feel more for me, but I now know that wasn't it. Do you remember when you first knew you loved me?"

"It was so long ago, Willow, and it happened so gradually. I never expected to fall in love with a human. But I'm sure I loved you by the time you were eighteen. I still remember that birthday. After I walked you to your room that night and you went in, I stood in the hallway, staring at your door and wishing I never had to say good night to you again. I finally admitted to myself that I loved you. Until then, I tried to deny it every time the thought crept into my mind. It seemed so impossible that you would ever feel the same."

Willow leaned her cheek against his chest. "I love that we don't have to leave one another at night anymore. After that first time we hugged—I can't _believe_ it was only a couple months ago—my arms felt so empty. I went into my room, hugged my pillow, and cried to Sunset. I slept by her side that night, as I did almost every night, but being able to sleep by your side is infinitely better. When I first saw your room and asked if you slept in your bed, the thought came to my mind that _you_ could be a warm body to snuggle with, but I tried to ignore it since I thought you viewed the idea of our different races as too large an obstacle to overcome."

Varhog chuckled. "I did exactly the same thing that night. I tightly hugged my pillow, wishing it could have been you, while complaining to Black Thunder. Though I don't think I cried."

"I've only seen you cry once, Varhog, and that was last night. But I cry plenty for us both, so it's no matter."

Varhog smiled down at her when she turned her face back up to him. "I love you, Willow, but those words never seem like enough." She nodded in agreement. He then added, "It's getting late but I'm not tired. How are you?"

"Not tired," she agreed. "Shall we resume our experiment?"

"With relish," he said. "What are we going to test next?"

"We're going to discover if we're at all able to resist the demands that accompany a kiss on the lips and if so, for how long. Any questions?"

"Yes. Are you sure this is a good idea? It doesn't feel natural to resist those demands. What if I get dangerous?"

"Hmm. Good point. Well, we need to know that too, I suppose. Since it's a common expression of affection for humans and the other two couples do so often, if I accidentally kiss you, I want to know what to expect. Are we going to rip each other's clothes off on the spot no matter who's around? Can we quickly leave our surroundings and find a private place in time? If we try, will you become dangerous? All things that would be helpful to know."

"I can see your wisdom. I'm just worried. It would be easier not to kiss in public, but even I might forget, with how much I love you and, as you said, how casually the others do. Very well. I'll participate in your experiment. How shall we begin?"

"I'll kiss you and try to leave. You try to stay. If you feel yourself getting out of control, roar or something. We'll quickly come back together and do what must be done. Will that work?"

"Yes. I think I'm also going to get dressed. That will be a more realistic representation."

"Good idea," Willow agreed.

So they performed their first test and immediately discovered that it was nearly impossible—and quite painful—for Willow to move away from Varhog after kissing his lips. Their second trial involved both of them attempting to move away at the same time, and the strange magnetism—which seemed to be activated by a kiss—abruptly dissolved after they painstakingly achieved a small distance of ten steps between themselves.

"We did it," Willow observed once Varhog had crawled over to her. "Though I'm not sure it was worth it." He pulled her onto his lap, his muscles clenching painfully as they attempted to recover from his effort of moving away from her.

"We would never do something like that in public," Varhog commented derisively. "I say we either don't kiss or let ourselves do what feels natural. No one will be offended forever. We might even start a new trend."

Willow laughed. "True. There's another possible course of action," she said. "Maybe we can try kissing then walking _together_ to a different location. Far enough away to be alone. The magnetism seems to want to keep us together, so maybe movement would be easier if we stayed in close proximity and didn't try to force ourselves away. What do you think?"

"It's worth a try. That seems more feasible than what we just did. Especially if I could pick you up and run. No one would have any doubt what we were up to, but at least we wouldn't do it right in front of their very eyes. Let's put our hypothesis to the test," he said, repeating her words from earlier in the day and giving her a grin. "At least in this scenario we get to satisfy the infernal longing."

Varhog made as if to stand, but Willow said, "Let's remain sitting. There have been many times around the campfire when such affectionate expressions were shared, and it seems a likely scenario where we might forget."

Varhog nodded. "Can I carry you?"

"I don't see why not."

"How far should I go?" he asked.

Willow shrugged. "As far as you can, I guess. Far enough that you would realistically get us somewhere private."

Varhog closed his eyes and set his jaw. "Very well. I'm ready." He opened his eyes. "Are you?"

Willow nodded, and they brought their lips together, instantly feeling the overwhelming heat and electricity. Varhog tensed and easily arose with her in his arms, striding toward the door and jerking it open with one hand. The hinges creaked under his strength. He walked swiftly down the hall and did the same thing at the front door.

Once outside, Varhog ran, and Willow began feeling his chest as his body moved with his effort, his heart pounding more rapidly than his exertion required. A pleading whine escaped her lips and she clamped them shut, but it was too late. She slid her hands around his neck, once again pressing her lips against his. Varhog stumbled but managed to remain upright as he stopped and returned her kiss with impressive longing.

They couldn't even enjoy the moment or the time leading up to it. Once they gave in, their bodies demanded they join together as quickly as possible. Willow twisted her body around so she could wrap her legs around his waist, and Varhog fumbled with the clothing to get it out of the way. His instinct was to tear it, but he didn't want to ruin her dress, and that he had the presence of mind to think that surprised him. He wanted to slow down and enjoy her more—the sounds and smells and tastes—but once they were connected, the power of the sensation demanded his whole attention, except for the small part of his mind where he focused with fierce determination on controlling the strength of his body.

When relief finally found them, Varhog commented, "That seemed to work better, though I wish I could take more time to enjoy you. This kiss thing is a blessing and a curse. But we seem to be making progress, and we're still only in our first day together."

Willow laughed incredulously. "How many times have we done that now, Varhog? I'd say more than twenty-four, which means more than once every hour, but we were sleeping for so many of them. What _are_ we? Some kind of beasts?"

"Most men would say I am, so that's fair enough," Varhog replied, kneeling down. "That amazing epic session this afternoon put us way ahead of the once every hour mark." He used his fingers to push some of the loose strands of her hair out of her face and eyes. "I just realized I forgot to brush your hair!"

"It's no matter," Willow dismissed. "It would have already been in need again. You can still do it later, but let's not return just yet. Being out here in this cool night air has invigorated me. Let's go somewhere. We still have so many possibilities to explore. On dragon back. In water. Let's do both right now. Can we go to the lake, or is it too cold?"

Varhog laughed at the barrage of her thoughts and questions. "With winter fast approaching this far north, it would be too cold. But I'll take you somewhere you'll like, and it won't be cold at all."

"Perfect. Can we fly on Sunset? We've never ridden her together, since she was always needed to carry Angela, but I'd like that."

"Aye, Eartheyes. It makes no difference to me. We'll most likely not be paying much attention to the dragon carrying us." Varhog grinned.

Willow smiled back and said, "Let's kiss some more while we wait. It will keep me warm."

In answer, Varhog _did_ kiss her, and when Sunset arrived, they barely paused. Varhog played a series of images in Sunset's mind so she could carry them to their destination. Keeping Willow right where she was, Varhog climbed up into the saddle, grateful that their clothing would provide some measure of protection against the rush of cold night air.

They carried on in this manner as the dragon flew, reminiscent of earlier that day.

When they had been flying for nearly an hour, Willow's body could handle it no longer. Every possible outlet of release had been exhausted—tears, waves of ecstasy, tremors of her muscles, and sounds from her mouth—and she begged Varhog to stop, which he immediately did, holding her close to keep her warm while her body attempted to compose itself. He heard her heart pounding, felt her chest heaving and her muscles trembling.

Willow finally said, _On only our second night together, you already had me begging for mercy. Another record._

Varhog was amazed by the tone of Willow's mind. He felt something similar, but hers was so heightened, it was almost unrecognizable, glowing with a bright light that made her seem holy, so majestic and pure was her joy.

 _Your mind is blinding right now, Willow,_ Varhog thought _. It's blazing with a white light that would put the sun to shame_.

 _That's how I feel, Varhog. You brought me to this place of heavenly brilliance. It may take me some time to come down._

She had snuggled against his chest, but Varhog wanted to see her face so he pulled back, and she tilted it up toward him, a glorious smile on her lips. Her eyes were shining more brightly than they ever had and her skin glowed with something of the light inside her. Willow radiated a beautiful, breathtaking aura. Varhog put his hands on either of her cheeks, thinking he would surely be able to absorb some of that light and brighten his own.

Varhog felt Sunset in his mind, using his eyes to see the face of her Rider. Then the dragon said, _That was the most exquisitely sublime gift one person could give to another, Varhog and Willow. Your love is pure and powerful. Thank you for trusting me enough to share that on my back._

Willow snuggled back down next to Varhog's warm chest, and he felt how perfectly, transcendently happy she was in his arms on Sunset's back.

* * *

 **A/N:** There is very brief mention of intimacy in the following chapter, but if you skip it, most of the rest of Part Two will be confusing.


	25. Reaction and Reassurances

**25\. Reaction and Reassurances**

Before long, Sunset descended toward the ground, but it was difficult for her to find her way between the tightly growing trees. In the end, she couldn't keep herself from breaking some of them, which so upset her in her perfect happiness that she called upon the unwieldy magic of the dragons and healed them, turning their needles to slivers of precious gems.

Willow and Varhog beheld the breathtaking trees as they shimmered and sparkled in the moonlight, a million hues of the rainbow.

"Wow," Willow breathed. "That's amazing, Sunset."

 _I could not stand that I ruined them. Feeling their pain in the midst of my perfect joy right now was enough to allow me to do it,_ her dragon replied, equally stunned by the unexpected result.

Varhog gently lifted Willow, helping her turn in the saddle so both of her legs were dangling over one side together. She leaned into his chest, borrowing his warmth.

"It's late, isn't it?" Willow said.

"Aye. Probably just before midnight," Varhog answered.

Willow shivered. "And it's cold. I suppose that shouldn't surprise me, since we're deep in the mountains this close to winter. Where are we?"

"Let's get down and get warm, then I'll explain. Shall we?"

Willow nodded, accepting Varhog's help to get down from Sunset's back. "I suppose it's a good thing we left the hut with clothes on," she said. "We would probably have needed to return instead of starting off on some late night adventure."

Varhog grinned, mending his torn pants with magic. "That's true." He took her hand, guiding her a short distance into the trees. Willow began to notice a strange, sulfuric smell and that the air itself seemed to get warmer.

The trees abruptly cleared, and Willow found herself standing in front of a small pool of water surrounded—except for the small shore right in front of them—by large rocks and even larger boulders. Steam rose off the surface of the pond.

Varhog glanced down at her and grinned. "Last one in . . ." Willow needed no further challenge. Her dress was easier to slip out of than his shirt and pants, so she swiftly did so, running into the water a few seconds before Varhog.

"Is what?" she teased when they were shoulder deep in the water and she had hers arms around his neck. They had only gone far enough that he could still reach the bottom, so she pressed her body against his, holding onto him to stay afloat.

"Last one in gets to give the first kiss," Varhog concluded. "You should have let me finish, then you would have had a chance."

Willow giggled. "I bet you changed what you were going to say to work in your favor," she accused.

Varhog chuckled. "Perhaps. You'll never know, will you? But before I give you that first kiss, let me tell you about this place. This is a hot spring I discovered during the year I came of age and had to prove my courage in the initiation tradition of my people, when my horns grew their first curl," Varhog said. "We refer to it as the year we first get our horns, but they actually begin growing many years before, when we're around the age of twelve or thirteen. The year my horns first began to curl under I was seventeen. An Urgralgra ram must prove his courage by going alone on a hunt and subduing an animal with his bare hands. No weapons are allowed."

Willow asked, "Isn't that when Nar Garzhvog killed the cave bear by strangling it? Was it during his coming-of-age initiation?"

"Aye, Eartheyes, that's right. I wandered far from home, taking more time than was needed, enjoying the excuse to be by myself when nobody would bother me to rejoin civilization. I had no desire to be war chief, as did my uncle. I found this place and stayed here for a time. Then, fearing I would soon be missed, I decided I must return. On the way, I killed a wolf and carried his body back home to prove my courage. I didn't often return here until Black Thunder hatched, since it's far away to reach on foot. Once he had grown enough to fly with me, but before he was strong enough to carry me all the way to Ellesméra, we would fly here so he could gain strength and stamina flying with me on his back. He was small enough to fit in the water and enjoyed the heat. The winters here are cold, and it was the winter of almost ten years ago. The water is always hot, gaining its heat from deep within the earth. In summer, it might be too hot to comfortably swim, but now it will feel nice and keep you warm."

"How wonderful," Willow breathed. "How long can we stay in? It _is_ quite hot."

"Maybe not much more than half an hour," Varhog said. "In a few more months, it wouldn't be safe for you with the baby, since it will cause your body temperature to rise."

"Must we leave right after we get out? I'd like to stay for a time," Willow requested.

"We can stay. We'll dry our bodies with magic and stay warm in each other's arms. The air nearest the water is considerably warmer than the air farther away, so I think we'll be comfortable. Is there a blanket in Sunset's saddlebags?"

"Mm-hmm," Willow murmured, already thinking of other things. "We have little time to waste to explore this new possibility, sweetheart. Shall we begin? You _do_ get to start this time."

Varhog smiled and kissed her, which set off the chain of events they had come to expect. Within half an hour they were so hot from the demands of their exertion, combined with the heat of the water, that their faces were drenched with sweat and they both wanted to get out. They lay side by side on their backs, savoring the coolness of the night and not even bothering to dry off, since the wetness of their skin helped lower their excessively high body temperatures. They had both air dried before they felt any sensation of uncomfortable cool, and then Willow simply moved over to snuggle next to Varhog.

"This must be close to the time it was last night when we arrived at our hut," Willow observed. "The feasting, festivities, and contests took many hours. So I suppose this concludes our first twenty-four hours together as a married couple, Varhog. What is your assessment?"

Varhog looked at her with amusement in his eyes and said, "My assessment. . . . My assessment is that this has been the most unexpectedly and incredibly amazing time I have ever spent, or even hoped to spend, with another person. I know it won't always be like it has been this day, when the little ones come and with the various other activities that take our time on the Isle, but I'm looking forward to our very long lives together more than I can even begin to say. I love you, Willow. Thank you for being mine."

Willow smiled. "That was a tender assessment. I agree, Varhog. This has been amazing. Thank you for _asking_ me to be yours. Now we can continue as friends and add the many pleasures of being lovers to all the former enjoyments." She ended as her vision began to go blurry and her head filled with a dull ache. Willow closed her eyes, lifting one hand to her temple and rubbing gently. Her face unconsciously assumed a pained expression.

"Are you well, Eartheyes?" Varhog asked in concern.

Willow was shocked when the sound of his voice grated on her nerves, intensifying the growing pain in her head. She snapped her eyes open and felt an overpowering urge to get away from Varhog, so she abruptly sat and moved away.

Her rapid change in manner clearly alarmed Varhog. "What's wrong, Willow?" he worried, also sitting and placing a hand on her shoulder. Willow flinched at his touch, and he removed it at her reaction. She turned with apology in her eyes in time to notice the confused, hurt look on his face. He quickly erased it, replacing it once again with the sincere concern she had heard in his voice.

"I don't know," Willow whispered. "A moment ago my eyes went blurry and my head began to hurt. When you spoke to me, it aggravated the pain so much, I felt a desperate impulse to move away from you. When you touched my shoulder, your hand felt like a branding iron. What's going on?" she anxiously asked, tears filling her eyes.

Willow could see his reluctance to speak, since she had just confessed that it caused her pain. "I don't know," he whispered as quietly as he could.

Willow shuddered involuntarily at the sound of his voice, looking at him in dismay as her hands jerked spasmodically. She didn't understand what was happening or why she was suddenly reacting to Varhog in such a way. His voice—his deep, soothing, beautiful voice that she had always loved from the moment she first heard it—was now a source of physical pain. The tears spilled down her cheeks.

Willow didn't want this to be happening so she tried to fight it by reaching a trembling hand toward Varhog and placing it on his arm. But she gasped at the contact, instantly jerking it back. It was like she had placed her hand into a bed of red-hot coals. Shaking her hand as if to cool it, she demanded, "Do you feel any differently?"

Varhog shook his head but refused to speak again, which only added to her distress. His eyes were almost wild in their worry, but Willow could see that he felt trapped. He couldn't touch her without causing her pain, couldn't speak without causing her pain. "I don't know how to help you," he uttered in an undertone.

"Ahh!" Willow cried, clapping her hands over her ears and springing up to distance herself even more. Once the uncontrollable reaction was over, she cried, "I'm so sorry, Varhog! I have no idea what's happening! I long for you to take me in your arms, to hear your voice, which I've always loved. But in the same moment, my instincts demand I get away from you like you're some sort of poison to me." She gasped at her confession. Sharing it was as painful as plunging a knife into her gut, and she doubled over as if she had.

Varhog's face was tortured. He got up to leave, no doubt wanting to see if his absence would provide her some relief.

Willow fell to her knees, her tears raining down to the earth. "No," she whispered, wishing she meant it, hating that she didn't. She _wanted_ Varhog to leave. He only went to stand by Sunset, not so far he couldn't see her. Willow felt that Sunset's concern was equally as powerful as Varhog's. Her dragon had witnessed everything that had just transpired and could feel the tormented conflict inside of Willow's mind.

Willow remained hunched over on her knees, protectively hugging her arms around her waist and resting her forehead on the dirt. Her tears continued to flow, and before long she began to shiver. Without Varhog next to her, the cold night air quickly took its toll.

She felt Sunset say to Varhog, _She is cold, Varhog._

Sunset acted as a mediator of sorts, and Willow could feel the conflict inside Varhog through her dragon's mind. His instinct was to come over and wrap her in his arms, and he moved as if to do that then stopped, warring with himself before finally deciding to retrieve the blanket from Sunset's saddlebags.

 _I don't want to take this to her,_ Willow heard him say to Sunset, feeling dismayed that his mental voice created more pain _. I mean I do,_ Varhog continued, _but I don't want to cause her pain. But I also don't want to throw it at her. That seems insensitive_. _Will you take it to her?_

Varhog must have given the blanket to Sunset, for a moment later, her dragon moved forward and lowered her jaw with the blanket in it. Willow sat up and accepted it gratefully, shaking it out and wrapping it around her shoulders. Sunset partially blocked Varhog from her view, but Willow could see his face and how anguished it looked.

 _He is dying inside, sunshine,_ Sunset said to her. _He is desperate to help you but terrified of hurting you._

 _I know!_ Willow despaired. _I feel the same way! Please stay with me, Sunset! I want it to be him, but thinking about him being near me right now makes me feel sick. What's happening! I love him so much, but it's like my body hates him right now. Will you tell him something for me? I could sense your communication just now, but even his mental voice hurts me._

 _Of course,_ Sunset compassionately said, and Willow felt her gratitude that she could do something for her Rider. Sunset lowered her nose so her long face was parallel to Willow, and Willow wrapped her arms around Sunset's snout, grateful for the warmth and companionship she couldn't receive from her husband. The thought filled her with a fresh wave of agony.

 _Tell him I'm so sorry. And that I love him so much and long for him to be by me. I don't know what's happening, Sunset. I'm so frightened._

Sunset conveyed the message to Varhog, and Willow watched his face, feeling even more miserable as tears filled his eyes and trailed down his cheeks. It was only the second time she had ever seen Varhog cry, and he looked so helpless.

After a moment, Sunset's voice filled Willow's mind again. _Varhog wanted me to return a message,_ she sadly shared _. He also said he loves you and wishes he could help you somehow. He is sorry his presence is causing you pain. He asked if you want him to leave._

 _No!_ Willow cried. _This can't last forever, can it? I need to be able to see him. Tell him that._

Sunset did and after a moment, she reached her neck out so she could grab Varhog's clothes with her fangs. She gave them to him. Willow watched him dress then sit, pulling his knees up so he could rest his arms on them with his hands clasped in front. It was such a casual position, Willow would have thought him relaxed and content were it not for the haunted look on his face. He kept his eyes on hers, never looking away, and the tears continued to stream down his face. His look of desperation and helplessness broke her heart.

Willow knelt with the blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders and Sunset's wing over her body, but she shivered nonetheless, feeling so alone without Varhog by her side. She stared back at him, trying to communicate how sorry she was and how much she loved him, while her tears also continued.

After what felt like an eternity, though it must have only been about two hours, something inexplicably shifted in Willow, as if the energy that had created the intense revulsion toward Varhog had moved on. She felt it lift like fog under the warmth of the sun and gasped, stumbling to her feet and moving stiffly toward Varhog. Her legs ached from having knelt unmoving for so long.

Willow fell down in front of him, and he instinctively reached out to steady her. Then he drew his hands back, obviously still fearful he would hurt her. But Willow crawled between his knees and into his arms, her body rejoicing to be reunited with him. She covered his face with kisses—not yet on his mouth, but everywhere else—then wrapped her arms tightly around him. Her tears were now of relief, and her body started trembling as the shock of being forced to stay away from him affected her.

The undeniable reassurance of Willow's kisses and the way she longingly pressed her body against him must have removed Varhog's anxiety that he would still hurt her, for he soon reciprocated her tight embrace, forcing the air out of her lungs.

They did not speak for a long time. Their misery had been silent and so was their joy. Her body at last stopped its terrifying trembling, and Willow was still in his arms, breathing deeply to fill herself with his smell. She felt Varhog doing the same thing with his nose in her hair. He must have noticed that it was still slightly damp, as it had not fully dried in the cold, moist air, which was one of the reasons she had been so cold. Her body had shivered uncontrollably as she knelt, otherwise still as a statue. Varhog quietly murmured the words that would dry her hair, wicking the moisture away from her back so it would fall to the ground.

"Thank you," Willow breathed, adding, "That was _awful._ The worst thing I can imagine. May we never have to endure it again." She shuddered and looked at him, taking his face in her hands and willing him to understand the sincerity of her next words. "I'm _so_ sorry, Varhog. So sorry. I couldn't control my feelings at all, and they were in complete opposition to how I _really_ feel, which is that I love you more than anything else in this world. Do you believe me?" Varhog nodded solemnly.

Willow continued, "I once told you I might share my secret of why I love it when you laugh so much, and now I will. Varhog, your voice is the single most beautiful sound I have ever heard. When I first met you, my father had just died and the pain of my loss was still so fresh and raw. I was devastated by his death, more so than I was by my mother's or brother's, which is saying something. They were each so awful, but my father's was the worst because he was the last and I was alone. If it hadn't been for Sunset, I think I would have killed myself, so complete was my anguish and emptiness. Then I met you. I'm not trying to imply that I loved you right away, but I _loved_ your voice. Do you know why?" Varhog shook his head.

Willow explained, "It sounds like my father's. My father was a tall, strong man in his prime. He shriveled and weakened under the despair of losing his wife and his son, but his voice always remained the same, and it was the most beautiful, deep, reassuring, strong voice I'd ever heard, far more so than most human men. He would sing to me in that marvelous voice, and it seemed to take away all the hurt and grief of missing my mother. He would sing to my baby brother before he died, and it would calm and comfort him like nothing else. It was my one constant. His last words to me were, 'I love you, Willow. Be strong. You have Sunset to take care of you now. I go on to be with your mother and William.' That was my brother. Then he was gone, but those words have always remained burned in my mind, the tone of his voice always as clear as if he just whispered them to me." She paused and drew in a shuddering breath.

Then Willow began once more. "Do you remember the first words you ever said to me?" Varhog shook his head again. "They were, 'No. It's like hair. It continues to grow slowly but has no sensation.' Odd that I remember such an insignificant comment, don't you think? But not odd when you know it will be forever burned in my mind, like my father's last words, because you have his voice, Varhog. Exactly his voice. I don't know if I betrayed my wonder at the sound then, but I immediately longed to be with you whenever I could so I would hear it as often as possible. It filled the empty desolation in my soul with the most beautiful warmth. And I always tried to make you laugh so I would hear _his_ laugh." She pressed her face to his cheek. "I _love_ your voice, Varhog. I don't think there will ever be another sound more beloved to my ears than your voice, not even the first laugh of our baby. And I could never hear enough of it, not even if you talked as endlessly as I sometimes do." She smiled, and a small one played at the corners of Varhog's mouth.

Willow had never shared this with him, and she could see that Varhog found it deeply touching. He had unknowingly filled the void in her soul in a most personal way after losing her father, in the same way she knew Black Thunder had for Varhog after his sire's death. "Thank you for sharing that with me, Willow," he whispered. She trembled, smiling blissfully as his voice washed over her again for the first time since it had so shockingly hurt her ears.

But Willow wasn't quite finished. "And your touch. . . . Varhog, your touch is the most sublime sensation I have ever had the privilege of experiencing. Your _every_ touch. Your strong hands, which can be so powerful in one moment and so tender in the next. The feel of your rough hide. The warmth of your lips, no matter where they touch me. The strength of your muscles. I could never get enough of your touch, which is why it was so appalling to me that I reacted as I did. Please," she begged, " _never_ doubt the sincerity of my words right now, no matter what happens. Heaven forbid we ever have to experience something of that nature again. But if so, remember what I'm telling you right now. I love you so much. Your voice, your body, and your mind. Everything you are. Do you know that?"

"Yes, Eartheyes. And I'll never doubt it, no matter what happens."

"Thank you, Varhog." Willow stared at him a moment longer before finally allowing herself to kiss his mouth, confirming with her actions the honesty of her words. Coming together was as a blessed balm for their wounded souls, and Varhog surrounded her with his voice and touch—two things she had declared so completely beloved—as he filled her with his body. She blossomed in response, and some of the shining light that had been snuffed out in the moment of her revulsion returned to her. Willow remained curled as closely to him as she could when their bodies stopped moving, never attempting to change positions for the rest of the night.

* * *

 **A/N:** The following chapter contains some mature intimacy, similar to what the previous few have.


	26. Torture to Hell

**26\. Torture to Hell**

The next day, Willow and Varhog were able to pretend that the events of the previous evening were a strange anomaly that wouldn't trouble them again. After flying back to their hut on Sunset, they enjoyed the same easy, lighthearted interaction that had been present during their first full day as a married couple, interspersed of course with a fair number of passionate exchanges.

But Willow couldn't completely ignore the fact that something wasn't quite right, for each time they made love, Varhog's semen created an increasingly uncomfortable sensation within her body, along with an irritating rash on her inner thighs. She kept these discoveries to herself, knowing how Varhog would react if he also became aware.

Their final intimate encounter that night left them sleepy and content after the exhausting night and long, happy day. Willow and Varhog prepared to drift off to sleep in one another's arms, as they had been privileged to do the prior several nights. But their whispered conversation was abruptly interrupted by a tortured scream from Willow, who was snuggling on Varhog's chest. She wrenched her body away from him, clawing at the opening of her body as she ran to the washroom.

Willow continued to cry out in pain as she jumped into the washbasin, pouring cold water all over herself and rinsing out the inside of her body in an attempt to relieve the searing heat created by Varhog's semen and the touch of his skin on hers.

Willow felt Varhog's presence before he spoke, and all he managed was a strangled whisper. "Willow, I . . ."

Willow clamped her hands over her ears at the harsh, horrifying sound, feeling a deep, uncontrollable rage fill her. Then she turned on Varhog in terrible fury. "Get away from me!" she screamed, hating him for creating this unbearable, scorching fire in her body. The outline of Varhog's body shimmered as her eyes blurred and the pain in her head intensified. Her throat felt tight and constricted as if something was lodged there.

Varhog stiffened in utter disbelief. Willow had never spoken to him—or anyone else—like that, and she knew how it hurt him, but she felt possessed and couldn't help it. Varhog backed slowly away with inexpressible misery in his eyes at her unprecedented outburst.

Willow felt a small degree of relief after rinsing off and now began shivering from the cold of being wet, so she stepped out and wrapped herself in a towel, remaining in the washroom, where she leaned against the open door. She alternated between hating Varhog for what was happening and hating herself for the torment she knew she was causing him.

She felt Varhog in the front room and would have seen him had she looked up. But she kept her eyes tightly shut, one hand clutching her temples to fight the sensation that her head would split apart. When a dizzy spell washed over Willow, she slid to the floor, almost bashing her head against the door frame. She sensed Varhog respond involuntarily and knew he wanted to come help her, but she was glad he didn't. The thought of him being near made her so sick that she turned to the chamber pot and vomited into it.

Willow began to panic as the powerful loathing seemed never to diminish when time once again stretched interminably on. But just as the night before, after almost exactly two hours, she felt the shift—this time more pronounced because of how heightened her reaction had been—as the terrible energy moved on.

"Varhog," she weakly cried. He was by her side in a moment, and Willow threw her arms around his neck, feeling a pang of deep fear when she flinched at the touch of his bare hide. But she ignored it, pressing herself to her husband, whom she loved so much.

"Don't speak," Varhog said. "I remember your words from last night. You need not reassure me again. Is there anything I can do for you now?"

Willow shuddered in relief at his understanding, not feeling the strength to apologize and knowing her words would never convey the depth of her sorrow and regret. She nodded wearily, pleading, "Take me to bed and hold me."

-:-:-

Varhog lifted her wordlessly and did as she asked. He made sure she was comfortable and felt her slip off to sleep in his arms, but he couldn't follow for some time. His anguish over these frightening episodes was unbearable. He had tried to remind himself of her words while she shuddered on the floor in the washroom, but he could still hear her shriek of agony echoing in his head and see her clawing desperately at her body.

Then there had been her hateful words, screamed at him in unrestrained fury. He had never had to prepare himself for the chance that Willow would address him in such a manner, so gentle and sweet was her nature. When this puzzling trance came over her, she wasn't herself, which was the only thing that allowed Varhog to continue believing Willow loved him, so convincing was the evidence to the contrary.

Varhog eventually drifted into a fitful sleep, where her words and actions haunted his dreams. But the nightmares didn't end when he awakened the next morning, for he almost immediately noticed the angry red welts on the inside of Willow's thighs, further evidence that her awful reaction to him was only worsening. He flatly refused to make love to her all that day, insisting that he wouldn't knowingly add to her discomfort.

The rest of the day dragged by slowly, and Varhog's anxiety and feelings of helplessness only increased. He fetched Willow food and drink when she requested, and she only got up to use the washroom.

When she once again lay in his tense arms that night, Varhog asked, "Could this have something to do with the baby? Do you think that's possible?"

Willow gasped and seemed to grasp his idea as if it were her last hope for survival. They both reached with their minds to briefly explore that area of Willow's body but found no reassurance. The fertilized egg had moved from its initial position, heading toward her womb, but it still appeared to be some distance from arriving at its nesting place in her uterus.

Willow looked at him miserably, and Varhog already knew what she was thinking, as many times as she had voiced her request that day. He answered before she could repeat it. "I won't, Willow." He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see how forlorn she looked, continuing in a whisper, "Can't. I can't make love to you again when it might hurt you so badly. Please understand, Eartheyes."

When Willow spoke, Varhog heard the tremor in her voice but kept his eyes closed. "Please," she begged. "This can't be permanent. Will you never make love to me again?"

"I don't know, Willow. While this continues— _if_ it does—I won't."

Her tears finally spilled out of her eyes and onto his chest, and Varhog's eyes also brimmed as Willow sobbed, "I think it's starting again."

Varhog nodded curtly, gently moving away from Willow so she could situate herself in the bed without him. He crossed the room and sat in a chair, allowing the tears to stream down his face as he watched her slump against the pillows he had been leaning into. She seemed to breathe in deeply for a moment, but then she suddenly sprang out of the bed so she could lean out the window and vomit. Willow didn't meet his gaze as she returned to the opposite side of the huge bed, the side they had barely touched and which must have been mostly free of his scent. She laid down and closed her eyes. Without any perceptible evidence of his presence, she drifted off to sleep only a few minutes later.

-:-:-

Willow awoke in the morning to find Varhog resting on his back on the floor, breathing deeply with sleep, though his fingers and eyelids twitched nervously. She felt a pang of remorse coupled with relief. What was wrong with her? The conscious part of her mind wanted Varhog near as much as ever, but the subconscious part was grateful for his distance.

Willow silently made her way to the washroom, but a sudden spell of lightheadedness in the hallway forced her to stop and steady herself against the wall. She absently rubbed her throat, noticing that the tightness had eased after she left their room.

Willow attempted to relieve herself and, though her bladder was full, was unable to. As she stared at herself in the mirror, trying to make sense of these mysterious new symptoms, Varhog appeared behind her, wearing clothes, which made her grateful for some reason. He warily watched her eyes in the mirror.

"I'm fine," she reassured him.

"May I brush you hair?" Varhog asked, and Willow's stomach clenched as the sound of his voice made the hair on her arms stand on end. But she wouldn't allow her body to reject him. She would fight this, no matter how hard it was.

"Of course, sweetheart," she said, acting like nothing was wrong, though she knew he could tell. "You never got to, after all."

"But I can see that the thought now makes you uncomfortable," Varhog said. To her relief, his maturity kept him from stalking off like a slighted child, though she saw in his eyes that her deception had hurt him.

"I'm sorry, Varhog," Willow whispered, also now fighting back the tears that threatened. "I'm trying to resist this. I won't surrender to some inexplicable force that suggests you're dangerous to me. Please brush my hair. Part of me really does want you to." There. She had been honest and while she knew it was still hard for Varhog, she saw his appreciation.

Willow handed him the hairbrush, and he asked, "What's the best way?"

Though his beautiful voice only added to the now-constant pain in her head, Willow patiently instructed, "Hold a section near the bottom in your hand and work out all the tangles at the end. Then move up and repeat it. That way it will only pull against your hand."

Varhog nodded his understanding, moving close enough that he could reach her hair by extending his long arms. The sensation was pleasant but when his fingers brushed her back, Willow flinched. She knew Varhog noticed—she was watching his face in the mirror—but he kept his eyes on his task. Rather than being the romantic experience she had anticipated days before, Willow now found herself grateful he finished the job efficiently. He finally met her eyes and handed the brush back to her.

"Thank you," Willow whispered sadly at the tortured look on his face.

"I'd like to go out," Varhog very quietly said. "Would you like to come, or do you prefer to be apart?"

Willow trembled at the pain his voice caused in her, both physically and emotionally, because she could hear how tormented he was at the thought she might truly wish to remain apart. "I don't prefer to be apart, Varhog, but I'll stay," she carefully said.

Varhog inclined his head in acceptance, turning to leave without another word, and the tightness in her throat once again diminished. Willow could clearly see how Varhog's emotional anguish was affecting him. His broad shoulders, usually straight and proud, were hunched and defeated.

Willow went back to the bedroom and slipped into her lavender gown, trying not to think about how Varhog always looked at her when he saw her in it. Besides some items in Sunset's saddlebags, which Willow didn't feel like retrieving, the dress was the only clothing she had, and she no longer felt like being naked.

Willow then made her way to the kitchen and explored it more extensively for the first time. It was modest and humble like the rest of the hut but sufficient to perform all the necessary tasks of such a room. She found the cupboards well stocked, as Myrintuk had promised.

 _Myrintuk,_ she thought. Her new mother. How would _she_ feel if she learned of Willow's behavior toward her beloved son? Now that Varhog was gone, Willow found herself wishing he was back. She loved him so much, so why, _why_ was this happening? He didn't deserve it.

Willow busied herself making some bread in an attempt to keep her mind off the terrible events of the past few days. She heated the small oven with magic and found the needed ingredients. Though staying occupied was helpful, Willow continued mulling over their dilemma. She knew there had to be some logical explanation, but she just couldn't find it. Thinking of logic made her think of Arya. Maybe _she_ would know what to make of this situation. Willow resolved that if things stayed the same or got worse in the next little while, she would seek out Arya and ask her advice.

The bread finished baking some hours later, and Varhog still hadn't returned. Willow went outside in the warm afternoon sun to spend some time with Sunset.

 _Where is he!_ she cried to her dragon. _Do you have any idea?_

 _He is flying, sunshine,_ Sunset responded. _He and Black Thunder left as soon as Varhog came out of the hut this morning._

 _Sunset! I feel so awful about these strange occurrences. It seems like Varhog is slowly dying inside. And can I blame him? I can't believe what I screamed at him the night before last. I've never spoken to_ anyone _that way. What's_ wrong _with me!_

 _I do not know, sunshine. I am so sorry. I have been heartbroken experiencing your conflicted emotions through our bond._

 _I'm starting to get cold,_ Willow mourned. _It seems I've been cold ever since that night at the hot spring. Varhog hasn't been able to touch me since last night. Can I snuggle under your wing?_

 _Of course, sunshine_.

Willow crawled closer, hugging herself to Sunset's warm belly as her dragon gently rested her velvety wing over Willow's body. Willow stayed there, crying softly until night fell. With the darkness came chilling cold, so Willow bid Sunset goodnight, grabbed some clothes from the saddlebags leaning next to the hut, and went inside.

After putting away the clothing, Willow started a small fire to warm the main living area and sat at the table, picking at the bread. It tasted good, but though she had barely touched any food all day, she had little appetite. She was lonely and wished Varhog would come home, but she was beginning to worry he might not.

The thundering boom of dragon wings startled her then filled her with relief. Varhog had returned to her. Willow stood up, her stomach fluttering nervously. She clung to that feeling, promising herself that no matter how much her subconscious mind might object to his return, she would welcome Varhog home with all the desire her conscious mind and heart now felt.

Varhog ducked in through the door with his arms full of items from Black Thunder's saddlebags. He dropped them all on a chair next to the door and faced her, looking strong and handsome. The twisting in Willow's stomach was not imaginary, and she went to him, wrapping her arms around him and inhaling deeply. He smelled like the wind.

"I missed you so much, Varhog," she breathed. "You were gone all day."

"I'm sorry, Willow," Varhog murmured, obviously drinking in the sincere warmth of her welcome.

"Please, Varhog," Willow entreated before anything about the way she felt could change. "Please make love to me again. I feel so cold and empty."

Willow pulled back her head and saw that he longed to believe her words, so she quickly kissed him and was grateful the expression had the same effect as before. They stayed right where they were and swiftly satisfied the demands of their desire, which was so powerful after only two days apart. How had they lived without this?

Varhog fell to his knees when they were done, holding her body and head close to him, and Willow heard the emotion in his voice indicating that he was near tears. "Thank you, Willow. All day I have tried to steel myself for the possibility that I might never get to do that with you again, and it was worse than death. _Then,_ at least, I might forget what you felt like, how it feels to love you like this. But in life I'll always remember and I will always long for you, my beautiful wife. I didn't know what to expect when I returned, but that was the best gift you could have given me." He rested his face against her hair.

-:-:-

Varhog dared say no more, fearing it would cause the dreaded change that took Willow from him. He simply held her close and smelled her, trying to memorize everything about what he sensed.

Varhog felt Willow begin to tremble almost imperceptibly in his arms, and he knew she was struggling to subdue the revulsion his nearness invoked. His heart sank, and his wishful hope that all of the heartache of the previous days had only been an awful dream was dashed. Varhog began to pull away, but Willow stubbornly shook her head, grabbing her dress where it was gathered around her hips and pulling it off over her head. She did the same with his shirt, and Varhog reluctantly helped her get it over his horns. Then she pressed her body into him, lifted her face back to his, and kissed him again.

Varhog couldn't control the overwhelming urges it created, and Willow sincerely seemed to want this, so he did something he had never yet done, fearing he might never again have the chance to try. Without breaking their kiss, he knelt up and moved over to the large sofa, where he pulled himself up before lowering Willow down beneath him. Varhog was careful not to allow the full weight of his body to rest on her, but he allowed enough of it to press against her that it took her breath away.

And as they had two times before, they surrendered to the desires of their bodies and continued sharing their love for as long as they could. They were so confused about Willow's bizarre reaction and the fact that it momentarily seemed not to be playing a role in their interaction spurred them on.

So the hours passed in blissful love, and Varhog almost felt himself healed of the pain caused by Willow's unintentional rejection of him. But he failed to mark the passage of time as it blurred in his mind into one beautiful moment of closeness with her.

Varhog felt the shift in Willow a split-second before her piercing scream filled his ears, shockingly different from the beautiful sounds of her pleasure only a second before. He recoiled, leaping up as she shoved frantically to distance herself from the source of her excruciating agony.

Willow at first seemed paralyzed by the burning of his semen, so deeply had it penetrated into her body. Varhog watched in horror as she convulsed on the sofa, her legs twitching helplessly and her fingernails scratching over her womb with such force that she gouged deep marks in her skin and her blood flowed freely. Her face was a contorted mask of torture. She writhed in pain, tumbling onto the floor, where she curled into a tight ball while her screams increased in duration and intensity.

Varhog moaned in despair, cursing his stupidity. He had to help her. He felt certain Willow would die right before his eyes if he couldn't think of a way to relieve the torture he had caused, and the thought made his body clench in terror. So he carefully picked her up, turning toward the washroom. Though she struggled mightily to get away from him, Varhog gently held her, determined to take her to the washbasin.

"NO!" Willow shrieked in a pitch so high his ears popped. "NO! STOP TOUCHING ME! YOU'RE KILLING ME!" Varhog heard Sunset roar in warning outside, and he sobbed in desperation. Hot tears filled his eyes and fell—as if in slow motion—down onto her bare skin. Her seizures began anew as bright red welts marred her perfect skin where the liquid touched her, like she had been burned with acid. The screams ripped from her throat with concentrated volume, and she thrashed in his arms, striking wildly against his chest.

Varhog choked back another sob, hating himself for what he had done and was still doing to Willow. When he reached the washroom, he swiftly set her in the large basin meant for bathing and filled it with water from the jug, recklessly using magic to increase its volume so she would be covered up to her neck. He quickly healed the deep scratch marks on her abdomen and cooled the water more than it was—also using magic—then focused his mind inside her body where _he_ had been. He recoiled once again as he perceived the excruciating suffering she was experiencing from the searing, blazing, liquid fire of his semen. Using words of power from the ancient language and his mind, Varhog gently swirled water into Willow through the narrow opening of her womb, working to wash away any residue of the innocuous fluid that seemed to be killing her.

Willow began to calm down, and as the screams slowly subsided, she lay shuddering in the water. Once Varhog was reassured that she wasn't in danger of imminent death, he scooted back, feeling a part of himself die at the noticeable relief his distance provided her. He leaned back against the open door with his hands clenched into trembling fists, trying to remember her words of reassurance after the first time this had happened. But he was unable to given the unbearable intensity of her reaction. Willow hated him and how could she not? She had screamed that he was killing her, and it had appeared to be no exaggeration.

Sobs engulfed Varhog, thick streams of tears running toward his ears. From their beautiful time of love and joy to pure hatred and agonizing torture. Heaven to hell. He didn't stop crying the entire two hours of her episode, nor did he ever look at her. Varhog feared that if he met her eyes, he would see in them the confirmation that she loathed him.

In an exhausted, quavering voice, Willow finally said, "Varhog."

Varhog shuddered, and his tears increased. He didn't deserve to have Willow speak to him. _He_ was the source of her agony, and he felt certain that this unexplained shift had something to do with the experiences of their wedding night, when his near-abandonment had followed so closely behind their first expression of physical love. Each night the frightening transformation began at exactly the same time and lasted for exactly two hours before passing. What did it mean? Varhog had to have answers before he went insane. Willow's reaction was getting increasingly worse. Would it go on forever? Would it get stronger every night? He didn't think he could bear it, but nor could he bear living without her.

In a lifeless tone Willow said, "If there is such a place as hell, we have discovered it." Her voice sounded wretched, and Varhog finally risked looking at her. She still reclined in the water, her face toward the ceiling and her eyes closed. She was shivering again, but this time from cold. Varhog used magic to warm the water, feeling a small sense of relief as she relaxed.

"Thank you, Yelloweyes," Willow softly said. But Varhog somehow knew that she didn't look at him because she knew if she did, she wouldn't be able to be so tender and grateful. "Thank you for that and for earlier. You saved me."

"Even as I killed you," Varhog bitterly said.

Willow grimaced and started to speak, but Varhog interrupted, "Don't. Now that the worst of it is over, I can remember your words from the first night. I'm trying to trust them. Believe me, I'm trying. But . . . I can't bear to cause you this pain, whether it's your body's conscious or unconscious reaction. I swore I would never leave you after almost doing it, but tell me now honestly if you don't wish for me to go."

Tears squeezed from the corners of her closed eyes and Willow said nothing, which was confirmation enough, but Varhog still clung to the sliver of hope that she would refute it. "Sweetheart," she finally said, so sincerely his heart ached. "Varhog, I love you so much. I'm not lying. You know that. But . . ." And here it came. Varhog stopped breathing, clenching all his muscles in preparation for the devastation as Willow continued, "But I don't know if I can survive something like that again. Perhaps it would be better if we stayed apart for a time to see if this will end."

Varhog gasped as the power of the pain stunned him, though he had tried to prepare for it. All he could do in response was sob more forcefully, his head once again slumping against the door behind him. He heard Willow leave the water and close the small distance between them. Then she knelt, working her way into the circle of his arms, her hair and skin dripping all over him. The feel of her soft body was torture. "Varhog," she whispered, "please do not despair."

"How can I not? It would be worse than death to live apart from you, but it's slowly killing me to see you flinch away from me with a look of revulsion in your eyes that begs me to stay away from you. It's how humans have always acted toward and looked at me, just never you. Never you."

Willow lifted her hands to his cheeks, attempting to stem the flow of his tears, but it did nothing. Her warm, soft lips kissed over his eyelids, on his nose, then so entreatingly on his lips.

But for the first time, this kiss was different. There was no force on earth that would get Varhog to make love to Willow again when there was a possibility it would kill her, so this kiss created no overwhelming demands to satisfy, just the feel of her lips on his own. So they kissed as they had always wished they could—to show their affection and provide comfort, able to enjoy the simple expression without unbearable urges to fulfill.

Varhog's tears stopped for the first time in hours, and he opened his eyes in wonder, bringing his hands to Willow's face to feel her soft skin and continuing to kiss her tenderly, so grateful it was not a moment of passion but of gentle love and healing.

Even when they both opened their mouths at the same moment, the exchange did not provoke powerful emotions other than a deep sense of oneness and love. Varhog felt no revulsion or rejection from Willow, and she seemed content to let him carry on as long as he wished, so he finally ended the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. "That was different," he observed.

"Mm-hmm," Willow murmured. "And nice. I like being able to kiss you like that. I can enjoy it for what it is—just a kiss. Maybe we've learned to control it."

"Eartheyes, _nothing_ would get me to make love to you again after I saw and _felt—_ " Varhog choked at the memory of the pain inside of her then continued, "what you were feeling that last time. Nothing. Won't you open your eyes?"

Willow sighed and opened her eyes, immediately lowering her face so Varhog wouldn't see. He reached for her chin to gently lift it, but she stopped him with a hand on his wrist. "Wait," she whispered. "Please let me explain." He dropped his hand. "Varhog, my eyes are lying right now. What do you hear in my voice?"

"I hear _you_ , Willow. That you love me, accept me, and want me to be here."

Willow nodded. "Yes, Varhog, and that's how I _feel_. But my eyes say something different and I fear if you see, you'll doubt what I feel. We have long relied on our eyes to communicate things that can't be said with words, and you've come to trust mine so completely that seeing this look in them will devastate you, as it already has before. It's growing, sweetheart. I don't know why, but the look in my eyes is stronger and I can't bear to let you see it."

Varhog lifted her chin, staring at her eyes through the sheen of tears. He thought he would be prepared for anything, but he was wrong again. He flinched at the fear, revulsion, deep pain, and the undeniable message that she wished she were a hundred miles away from him.

"I'm so sorry, Varhog. As I said, they don't reflect my true feelings. Can you trust my words?"

"I'll try, Willow. But I don't know how long I can believe your words when your eyes look like that. What are you feeling? I mean physically? I can see you're pained in my presence."

"Must I enumerate all the unpleasant symptoms? I can see no purpose to it. It will only serve to make you more miserable and convince you it would be best if you left, which I won't tolerate."

"But you suggested it yourself only a moment ago," Varhog reminded her.

"Yes, but I think we can make this work a few more days until we see what will happen with the baby. I had the idea to ask Arya if she has any explanations, since she seems to understand the logical nature of things. There must be a reason for these symptoms. Last night when you moved away before it started, I was able to fall asleep, so mild was my discomfort."

"So I'm going to keep my distance and you won't look at me and we'll sleep separately?" Varhog summarized. "It hardly sounds appealing."

Willow laughed despite herself, and the familiar sound Varhog loved so much made him smile faintly. "I think we can for a few days. As unpleasant as it sounds compared to our first day, it still feels infinitely better than you leaving."

Varhog nodded fervently. "Shall we sleep, then? I can see you're exhausted, and I am too."

"Yes, we shall." They stood, and Willow took his hand, though Varhog saw it required effort by how she clenched her jaw to keep her face blank.

Varhog sighed sadly. "Tell me what pain you feel," he insisted.

Willow gave in. "Constant pain in my head, blurry vision, lightheadedness, nausea, tightness in my throat, pain in my breasts and abdomen, spasms in my hands and feet, inability to relieve myself, burning at the touch of your skin, pain at the sound of your voice, deep anger, moodiness, vomiting . . ."

Varhog laughed humorlessly then clamped his lips together. "Sorry. All that? No wonder you wish me gone. I would too."

Willow smiled weakly but didn't look at him as _his_ Willow would have. "I miss you already, Eartheyes."

Willow bowed her head in grief, and the tears started again. They were in the bedroom then, and Varhog guided her to the side of the bed where she had slept the previous night. She said, "I desperately wish it wasn't this way. If there was _anything_ I could do, anything at all, I would. It has been completely involuntary."

"I trust you. Now lie down and sleep. I'll sleep on the floor again. I'm used to it. It's not any different from the ground on a hunt." Willow acted like she would protest, but Varhog saw it was what she wanted and walked across the room before she could speak.

Varhog lay down, forcing his mind to think of nothing, and sleep found him quickly.

-:-:-:-


	27. Discussion

**27\. Discussion**

Nar Garzhvog returned several days after the Riders in the Bolvek village scryed Grintuk on the Isle of the Eldunarí. Eragon had asked Varhog's mother to inform him as soon as the war chief was back and rested from his journeys so they could meet with him and discuss their concerns regarding King Kulkarvek.

While they waited for Nar Garzhvog, Eragon, Arya, Murtagh, and Nasuada enjoyed life in the Urgralgra village. They soon discovered it was just as delightful during the day as at night. Each day they left their huts to find the village swarming with activity. Children ran and played joyously while their mothers toiled away, bottling fruits and vegetables from the fall harvest for the approaching winter.

The women worked together, sharing a deep sense of unity and purpose, and the rams helped when they weren't off fighting or hunting. The Riders had been surprised to learn how caring and playful the rams were while with their families, helping with the children and the many tasks of preparing for winter. All of the visitors were invited to be a part of the normal activities, and Varhog's family in particular had accepted them into their familiar circles.

But there was one aspect of village life that Murtagh still hadn't grown accustomed to, and as he, Nasuada, Eragon, and Arya finally sat down in the village square with Myrintuk and Nar Garzhvog for the anticipated discussion, Garzhvog immediately picked up on Murtagh's discomfort. Murtagh turned his face awkwardly as a young child about three years of age ran to his mother and pulled open the front of her dress while she sat peeling fruit. The boy latched himself right onto her breast and began nursing contentedly.

Arya watched the exchange in tender anticipation, and Eragon enjoyed his wife's reaction, though he too appeared mildly uncomfortable at the display. He, however, wasn't as embarrassed as Murtagh, thanks to his and Arya's conversations and passionate exchanges, and Eragon grinned at his brother's mortification.

Garzhvog chuckled and boomed, "Do human children not nurse at the breast, Murtagh?" The open discussion of breasts and all things related was as second nature to the Urgralgra as fighting to prove their eligibility to mate.

"What?" Murtagh stammered, flushing. Then he cleared his throat, and the huge Kull only laughed louder. "I mean . . . yes, they do for a time, I believe."

"But you're obviously uncomfortable by this demonstration," Garzhvog stated.

"Uh, yes," Murtagh dryly asserted, clearly trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "I suppose you could say that. The children come and go as they please and some of them seem so old, but what surprises me the most is how some of the women keep themselves uncovered."

Garzhvog asked, "Do you not enjoy breasts, then?"

Murtagh colored more deeply, and Nasuada grinned slyly at his discomfiture. "That's not it," he protested. "I've just never had the experience of witnessing this degree of openness surrounding breastfeeding."

"I see," Garzhvog said. "Did you not nurse as a baby or child?"

"My father Morzan forced my mother to give me to a wet nurse, and I believe I was only nursed for what was considered the obligatory time before she was dismissed. I'm sure I didn't nurse beyond perhaps a year of age, if that."

"How unfortunate," Myrintuk murmured. "Our children nurse for many years, which is how they grow so tall, strong, and healthy. Our finest warriors usually nurse the longest. Varhog wasn't always as formidable of a fighter as he now is, but he nursed until he was six."

"Six?" Murtagh repeated in shock. "Surely he remembers."

"Of course!" Myrintuk cried. "And I believe it's one of the reasons we have one of the closest relationships out of any of my children. And he and Myrin nursed together for nearly four years, which is why they're the closest of any of the siblings. Most of the children who nurse past four years of age retain some memory of the beautiful experience into their later life, which might explain why the rams continue to enjoy the expression when they find a mate and why their mates also enjoy such a thing. But do not misunderstand. What the mated couples enjoy as a passionate expression of intimate love is a pure, innocent expression for the children and their mothers, who delight in the tender bond while they have opportunity to share it."

All eyes were on Murtagh when Myrintuk concluded her speech. Though he was obviously conscious of that fact, he couldn't hide his astonishment, and Arya now laughed, saying, "You know, Murtagh, this is the pointer Eragon would have shared with you had you taken the time to ask how he's able to pleasure me so successfully. And it's also the reason I teasingly suggested you should grow a beard." She laughed louder at his mortified expression, and Eragon chuckled, as did Garzhvog.

Nasuada joined with, "Really? How interesting."

"Don't tell me you haven't yet pleasured your mate at her breasts," Garzhvog scoffed.

Murtagh coughed uncomfortably, and when Nasuada apparently guessed that he was too embarrassed to reply, she answered for him, "I'm afraid not. Though in his defense, we've only been married just over a week, and I don't think the idea occurred to either of us. I'm curious to do some experimenting. Or rather, to request that my husband does." She smiled in exaggerated innocence as Murtagh's awkwardness deepened.

Influenced by the openness of the Urgralish culture regarding this topic, Arya boldly said, "Eragon and I discovered this pleasure our first time making love." She proudly turned to her handsome husband. "Thank goodness."

Eragon laughed. "Indeed. But only because you demanded it." Arya smiled impishly. "Otherwise I too would have been as clueless as my dear older brother."

Eragon's prodding brought about Murtagh's recovery faster than anything else could have. He grinned wryly and said, "As you say. I suppose I never imagined that such a thing would be desirable for a woman."

"It is," Myrintuk quickly said, lowering her eyes as Garzhvog glanced at her. When she once again raised them, he hastily looked away.

"Yes, it most definitely is," Arya agreed. "Try it. You'll love it," she promised Nasuada.

"And you will too," Eragon assured his brother.

"With his mouth, right?" Nasuada clarified. Murtagh looked at her in exasperation.

"That's right," Garzhvog confirmed.

"For how long?" Nasuada curiously asked.

"Forever," Arya said with affected earnestness. "At least, that's what _you'll_ want." Her teasing smile revealed her jest.

Eragon laughed, wrapping his arms around her and muttering into her hair, "I never know whether the proper elven Arya will take part in these discussions or the unrestrained woman I've had the pleasure of becoming so well-acquainted with." Arya shrugged, her eyebrows raised in mock innocence.

In answer to Nasuada's query, Garzhvog advised, "As long as it takes and while doing all the rest. He'll know."

"I'm not sure I can make the kinds of sounds we've been so privileged to overhear these past few nights," Nasuada worried playfully. "Will he still know?"

"Definitely," Myrintuk promised. "Nothing feels quite as lovely. And it never hurts to make your enjoyment obvious, whether you sound like the Urgralgra or not." Nasuada smiled while Garzhvog looked over at Myrintuk again, but she kept her eyes carefully on her hands, which were clasped in her lap.

"Enough! You've convinced me!" Murtagh cried with a defeated laugh. "We'll try it. Right when this meeting is over even. Shall we begin, then?"

Garzhvog's deep laugh boomed forth again. "That's the spirit!" he approved.

Myrintuk smiled and looked over at him this time, which the Kull noticed. Their surreptitious exchange of glances at just the right times raised certain suspicions in Arya, who had discerned more than any of the others save the two in question, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

Garzhvog then continued, "So why did you want to meet, Firesword? And you as well, Lady Nightstalker?"

"To discuss the issue of King Kulkarvek," Nasuada replied without preamble.

"Ah," Garzhvog said, lowering his head to rest his chin in his hand.

"We learned three days ago that he was responsible for killing Galbatorix's first dragon, Jarnunvösk," Eragon explained, "which, as we know, set off the chain of events that led to Galbatorix's madness and rise to power."

"How did you learn this?" Myrintuk demanded.

"The dragon's Eldunarí, which is a unique structure within every dragon, also referred to as its heart of hearts, is in our possession on the Isle," Eragon answered. "She unexpectedly addressed the other Urgal Rider, Grintuk, while he was interacting with the dragon meant to hatch for the Urgralgra next year. She warned Grintuk that King Kulkarvek is a grave threat to a dragon, for her body was killed at his hand, and that he then kept her prisoner to his will for many years."

Myrintuk anxiously wrung her hands. "It's well known that the Urgal king hated Galbatorix with a fiery, vengeful passion. Perhaps the human king attempted to avenge himself of the wrong and performed an equally unforgiveable act of revenge." Eragon looked at her curiously.

"Myrintuk is—" Garzhvog began, but Myrintuk cut him off.

"Please, Garzhvog," she entreated. "Not now. I don't think that's necessary."

Garzhvog nodded slightly. "I was only going to explain that you were from the Delvhtuk clan, since Firesword looked curious as to how you would know that."

Myrintuk looked slightly relieved. "Yes, that's true. I'm from Anghelm, and as I'm sure Grintuk explained, anyone who has lived in the king's city is well aware of his hatred toward humans, dragons, and above all, Galbatorix."

Nasuada said, "I have observed—as I'm sure you have, Nar Garzhvog—that the most common time for Urgal uprisings is at the end of every summer when a Rider is in the land overseeing a Choosing Ceremony and a new Dragon Rider is chosen. And the worst altercations occur each year a human Dragon Rider is chosen."

The Kull war chief sighed heavily. "Aye. I'm aware of the same pattern. In fact, my absence these past several days was related to this very phenomenon. I journeyed to Carvahall to oversee their defenses and warriors. I set off as soon as I received news of a skirmish that happened several weeks ago. Two of my fighting rams were injured by rams from Anghelm, sent at Kulkarvek's bidding."

"Carvahall?" Eragon sharply interjected. "Is my cousin safe?"

"He is, Firesword," Garzhvog assured. "Stronghammer is the best war chief I can think of to lead that city. He has rarely let the Urgralgra up north breach his defenses, but though he views our race with slightly more kindness than many other humans—since he fought alongside and even commanded a group of my fighting rams during the war—he grows weary of these constant conflicts. The other humans are even less tolerant than he, with good reason. When the Urgralgra continue to attack unprovoked, it's not hard for me to imagine the anger of those they attack. From what I could gather from my rams, those who come aren't always eager to fight, but they're afraid of displeasing the king. Any who do not fight according to his command are put to death as traitors. My rams have occasionally convinced them to turn back and, in so doing, have avoided violent confrontations, but the king views such peaceful measures as cowardly and unacceptable. As of yet, Kulkarvek has not marched to battle with his fighting rams, but I fear that the most. No one can stand against him."

"Not even a Dragon Rider?" Eragon said. "Or several? I understand that he once killed a dragon and has magical abilities, but do you truly think he could withstand the five of us who are here now if we _and_ our dragons all stood against him together."

"It seems unlikely," Garzhvog allowed. "I don't know what to say. If what you say is true—that he killed Galbatorix's first dragon—then he is impossibly old, and I don't know what to make of that. What if he is because he _can't_ be killed, for some reason? Have you asked these Eldunarí why they warned you of Kulkarvek? Perhaps they know something that would explain this mystery."

"Yes," Eragon replied. "Grintuk was unable to learn anything more from Jarnunvösk herself. And the other Eldunarí there on the Isle weren't much more help. But after scrying with Grintuk, we consulted the Eldunarí traveling with us. The one who first issued the warning to Murtagh over ten years ago is Vrael's dragon, Umaroth. Beyond knowing that Kulkarvek was a threat, he didn't know about specifics. He recalls when Galbatorix returned from the wilderness and demanded another dragon. He is quite certain Galbatorix did not interact with Urgals in the time he stayed in hiding and studied dark magic. And when he emerged, he already had Morzan as a disciple and they had begun their quest to overthrow the Riders and obtain as many Eldunarí as possible. But once it became clear to some of the elder Riders what Galbatorix intended, it wasn't long after that Umaroth and the others were hidden on Vroengard for safekeeping, and they had limited access to the land at that point, so his memories are more disjointed from then on.

"He and the others in the Vault of Souls were aware of a great magical effort around what might have been the correct time, and they cast out with their minds to discover what could be happening. All they learned is that it involved Galbatorix and several Eldunarí somewhere in the northern Urgal lands, but they were unable to discern more. They could indirectly influence events on the land by communicating with the minds of certain creatures—such as the werecats—but beyond that, they had little control. And their awareness of what was happening was restricted to what they were intentionally observing, not everything inclusively. Umaroth told us it would have been impossible for them to know everything that was happening everywhere all the time."

"I see," Garzhvog said. "What do you suppose Galbatorix's first dragon meant when she said she was prisoner to Kulkarvek's will? And if that was the case, how did Galbatorix get her Eldunarí back?"

"We don't know the answers," Eragon said. "But I've been thinking about it a great deal since we talked with Grintuk. If Kulkarvek can use magic, he might have eventually sensed the presence of the Eldunarí from the three dragons killed at the time of the attack. I'm still curious about that. My father told me Urgals ambushed Galbatorix and his companions. I wonder if there might not be more to the story than Galbatorix ever let on. He was already delusional when he returned and asked for another dragon. Surely he recalled events in a warped way and twisted their true nature in his retelling of them. But if the three dragons who were slain unknowingly retreated into their Eldunarí, Kulkarvek may have come to realize they were there. Over time he could have subjected them to his will, as we know Galbatorix did with many hundred Eldunarí."

Eragon continued, "But how Galbatorix got her back is an unsolved element of this mystery. He must have simply gone and taken her. I can imagine how his decline into the madman he became must have affected Jarnunvösk. She no doubt would have mourned the deterioration and resisted his efforts to use her power to accomplish his ruthless objectives. No wonder Grintuk said she had no will to live." He paused for a moment as Garzhvog contemplated his explanation. Then he added, "How would the Urgralgra feel if we Dragon Riders were to attempt to remove Kulkarvek as king? Do they feel a sense of loyalty and concern for him?"

"He is cruel and ruthless," Myrintuk unexpectedly answered, bitterness in her voice. "He won his current position by brute force and coercion. He imposes his will on his subjects, and none has the ability to defy him. It hasn't always been the way of the Urgralgra to have a monarch. Kulkarvek took that upon himself and none could oppose him. I think the Urgralgra would consider it a blessing if you could somehow dispose of him. Each new generation hopes they'll witness the passing of the old tyrant, but it never happens. Garzhvog has worked tirelessly in cooperation with Lady Nightstalker to ensure that the Urgralgra can remain in the land, but it seems Kulkarvek is determined to thwart him on every hand."

Garzhvog looked at her kindly after her words of praise. "I don't think I should go to the next Urgralgra Choosing Ceremony," he said to Eragon. "My presence, while not as objectionable as Murtagh's," he glanced apologetically at Murtagh, "is still not welcomed by the king. There is a strange history between us. I remind him too much of another, whom he hated nearly as much as Galbatorix." Myrintuk sighed sadly.

"That won't be a problem," Eragon informed him. "Grintuk is planning on delivering the egg and overseeing the Choosing Ceremony. He has informed us that he believes it will be wise to make the Ceremony as brief as possible and to leave with the new Rider and hatchling right after, in an effort to trouble the king as little as possible. He and Varhog have both mentioned how antagonistic the king was when they met him after being chosen as Dragon Riders. It seems his hatred was directed mostly toward humans, dragons, and human Dragon Riders. I suppose, in addition to Galbatorix, _I_ probably have a good deal to do with that. If Kulkarvek feels as he does, I can't imagine he gladly received the news that the Urgralgra were invited to join in the pact with the dragons. I confess that when I proposed the idea, I was barely aware of King Kulkarvek and had no clue this would be a potential problem."

"It wasn't your fault, Firesword," Garzhvog said. "Though I obviously knew of Kulkarvek, he had so long remained isolated in Anghelm, none would have thought to consult with him. Some even speculated he had finally died, since he hadn't been seen outside the barrows in decades. But I fear you are right. I don't think he looks kindly on the idea of dragons hatching for the Urgralgra. And he also no longer allows his rams to participate in the Games in order to prove their worthiness to mate, which is another reason they must seek out conflict."

Eragon shook his head in frustration. "Though we still don't know enough about Kulkarvek to ascertain how much of a threat he poses, I don't think it would help anything to appear afraid of him. I simply can't imagine him being more powerful than five Dragon Riders with dragons as large as ours. And if we needed him to, Hanin could fly to our side within a couple of days. I think we'll proceed with or plans to visit Carvahall. I can see how it might provoke the old king, but perhaps it will also serve as a warning for him to keep his distance. Unless he is somehow invincible, I can't imagine that he would intentionally seek out a confrontation with us."

"If this is your intent, do you imagine any of your dragons would consent to carrying two of my fighting rams with you to replace those who were injured in the recent fight?" Garzhvog asked. "Those two are even now making their way back, and I mean to send their replacements as soon as possible. But if you're leaving soon, I imagine they would get there more quickly on dragon back."

"Whom do you mean to send, Garzhvog?" Myrintuk inquired.

He glanced at her, creasing his brow. "It's Raygog's turn," he said. "And Pultog. They're some of our best fighters who are still single, and I always prefer to send single rams, rather than those with mates and cubs."

"Yes," she agreed. "Though their mothers still worry."

"I'm sorry, Myrintuk."

"You needn't be," Myrintuk dismissed, though her anxiety was obvious.

Arya said, "Willow and Varhog wished to accompany us, but we haven't heard from them since they left, so we aren't sure when we'll be going. Have you heard anything, Myrintuk?"

Myrintuk shook her head. "No, I haven't. I would be surprised if they returned before a week has passed, but I would expect to see them sometime soon after."

"Though I can't say for sure," Eragon said in answer to Garzhvog's question, "I would imagine that Black Thunder might be our best bet for carrying two Urgralgra rams, since Varhog is his Rider, especially if one of them is Varhog's brother. Saphira is willing as a last resort, but she prefers not to."

"Fírnen feels the same," Arya quietly said. "They're sometimes particular about who they'll let ride them."

"I understand," Garzhvog said. "Then I suppose we'll wait until Willow and Varhog return. In the meantime, we'll hope Carvahall does not face another attack. They usually don't happen one on top of the other, but that could change at any time if the king is in a volatile mood."

"Were any humans harmed, Nar Garzhvog?" Nasuada asked.

"No, Lady Nightstalker. For the most part, I prefer my rams to face any attacking Urgralgra. Since we didn't have as many warriors from the northern tribes join us in our alliance with the Varden, they have many more Kull warriors than we, and all but the strongest, tallest human warriors have a difficult time standing against a Kull. Our rams, even when not Kull, are more evenly matched. The humans support our warriors with food and shelter. So far it has worked as an agreeable compromise, but as I said, the humans lose patience with us."

"Is there any more we can do?" Nasuada pressed. "I too will do all within my power to avoid a war with the Urgralgra, especially now that I've had the unique opportunity to live among your kind for a time. It saddens me that your rams are required to fight against other Urgals."

"I appreciate that, but rivalry between Urgralgra clans has been common for decades. The only time I regret it is when I hear that the attacking Urgralgra under Kulkarvek's command are there against their wishes. That reminds me too much of what Galbatorix and Durza did. I remember all too well what it was like to fight under constraint, though I don't know that Kulkarvek has yet used magic to force his rams. His sheer size and power are enough to win cooperation for the most part. As I said, we've been fortunate he hasn't yet marched at the head of his warriors."

"You'll be sure to inform me at once if we can offer more assistance, won't you?" Nasuada insisted.

"Aye, Lady Nightstalker," Garzhvog promised. "We need to get to the bottom of Kulkarvek's history, but I don't want any of you humans going anywhere near him until we do. I fear it would mean your certain deaths if you did. If he leaves the barrows, however, I would imagine the Dragon Riders are our best chance."

-:-:-:-


	28. Two and Treatment

**28\. Two and Treatment**

At Varhog and Willow's hut, things were worse than ever. For three days, the silence and anguish between them became increasingly pronounced. Willow would try to speak to him, but if Varhog answered, the sound of his voice caused her such pain, she would sometimes vomit. As such, Varhog soon refused to speak to her, and though he knew Willow was grateful that it lessened her pain, he also guessed that it was devastating for her that his once beloved voice was now such a constant aggravation. It went without saying that it was agonizing for Varhog, who also had to stay farther and farther away from Willow. His new bed was the couch, but he could sometimes still hear her tossing about in the bedroom during the two hour stretch when her reaction was the strongest.

During the day, they flew together on their own dragons so they would be apart but doing the same thing. They stayed out all day, and Varhog learned from Sunset—who did her best to bridge the growing chasm between Willow and Varhog—that Willow was thankful for the comfort provided by her dragon's presence but also keenly aware of how incomplete it was compared to Varhog.

Varhog endured the enforced separation with increasing levels of despair. He couldn't bear to see how sick his presence was making Willow, but he knew she didn't want him to leave entirely.

A week after their marriage, while they sat silently outside, enjoying the last warmth of the autumn sun, Willow suddenly cried out in joy. She had been looking increasingly haggard and pale from the struggle of being in his presence, so this look on her face surprised Varhog. She scooted over to him—apparently unbothered by how near she was—and breathlessly exclaimed, "It's happening! And look! There are now two!"

Varhog was confused, but Willow grabbed his hand and placed it over her womb. He noticed that she didn't flinch at the touch, so full was her joy. He had missed seeing her joyful expressions. "Use your mind," she urged, adding, "Oh! It's so marvelous!"

Varhog did as suggested and reached with his mind toward her womb, recognizing not one but _two_ bright specks of energy burrowing into her body. "Two?" he murmured in disbelief. "But how?"

"I hardly know!" Willow breathed in wonder. "At some point in the development it must have divided more completely than before, and each continued from that moment at the same pace. See how they're still together in the same sac? So it wasn't two separate eggs that were fertilized, but one egg that became two. We'll have twins, Varhog!"

Willow's excitement would have been contagious under normal circumstances, but Varhog couldn't share it. This was indeed surprising, but it worried him more than anything. Willow was getting worse every day, more drained by the hour from the effort required to remain in Varhog's presence. How could she sustain the demands of growing two babies while her body was enduring constant pain? But how could Varhog leave when Willow was now expecting his twins? He couldn't abandon them.

Willow seemed unaware of his anxiety, so pure was her bliss, so Varhog let her enjoy the moment without voicing any of his concerns, wishing this happy moment hadn't been ruined by her strange malady. But maybe she would now go see Arya, and hopefully they would learn something to help them understand what was happening.

Willow sat with her hands pressed over her womb, a distant look in her eyes, until the sun set and she began to shiver with cold. When they stood to go inside, her face paled, and she stumbled over to a bush, where she was violently sick. As this was not the first time Willow had vomited in the past week, Varhog knew her nausea was caused not by the new pregnancy, but by him simply being there, and he hated that.

They went inside, and Varhog quietly asked if Willow wanted to eat, but she shook her head, face pale and hands trembling. "I want to go to sleep," she said. "We'll go back to the village tomorrow. Is that acceptable?"

Varhog nodded as she went to the washroom and brushed her teeth before disappearing down the hall and into the bedroom. Varhog stayed out in the front room, knowing she slept more peacefully without him near. The contrast of that reality to the previous one was depressing. Willow had slept so peacefully in his arms the night before their wedding and the night of, but ever since then, they had dealt with an episode of her terrible pain and revulsion.

Since it was still quite early, Varhog wasn't at all tired, so he ate dinner by himself and made more bread. Then he sat on the sofa and alternated between conversing with Black Thunder and reading until he felt tired much later that evening. When he lay down, he fell asleep soon enough, but his body automatically awakened him a few minutes before Willow's inevitable transformation would occur, as it had the past two nights. Nothing eventful had happened then, but he still waited in tense anticipation as the minutes slowly passed, straining his ears toward the bedroom. He needn't have strained.

Willow's bloodcurdling scream filled the hut and echoed off the walls. Varhog leaped up and dashed to the bedroom. Sunset's howl of pain filled him with an even greater dread than the nearly paralyzing terror he already felt. He wasn't even in there! Why was it so much worse tonight?

Her piercing cry answered him. "The babies!" Willow wailed. Varhog was by her side almost as soon as the first scream died on her lips. She was sitting, but her face was contorted in pain, and she doubled over. He noticed an alarming stain of red spreading under her.

"Willow!" he cried. "What's happening?"

"There's no time!" she sobbed. "Take me to Arya!" Willow stood, nearly collapsing as another scream of pain left her throat. Varhog caught her, and she cringed at the burn of his touch, felt even through her dress, which she slept in for comfort. He grabbed the blanket, wrapping it around her and sweeping her into his arms. He strode out of the room and down the hall, leaving the front door open behind him in his haste.

Then Varhog started running as fast as he could without jostling Willow, arriving in the village only minutes later. He made his way to his mother's hut and kicked the door down, not wanting to shift Willow at all.

"Mother!" he bellowed. Myrintuk appeared within moments.

"Varhog!" she exclaimed in dismay at the look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Where are Firesword and his mate?" Varhog curtly questioned. "Take me to them quickly. There's no time to explain."

Myrintuk immediately exited her hut, running in front of Varhog to a hut much like his and motioning toward it fearfully.

Varhog did the same thing with this door as Willow let out a shriek of pain then clamped her hand over her mouth. Myrintuk flinched at the sound.

Varhog headed straight into the house and to the bedroom. He pushed the door open by leaning against it, since it wasn't latched shut. Eragon was already sitting up in the bed, and Varhog guessed he had heard the boom of the door and Willow's shriek. Arya now sat as well, holding the blankets up to cover her nakedness.

"Whatever is the matter?" she cried as she recognized the two in front of her and the look on Varhog's face. Willow moaned in pain.

In clipped tones Varhog answered, "Willow's in trouble. Please, Arya. Help her."

"No! Not me!" Willow gasped in frantic desperation. "The babies! They're dying! Arya, please!"

-:-:-

At the word 'babies,' something clicked in Arya. "Eragon, find me something to wear," she demanded. "The closest thing you can reach." Eragon still looked stunned. "Hurry!" Arya hissed.

Eragon grabbed his shirt, which was right next to the bed on the floor, since Arya's clothes were farther away. He handed it to her, and she pulled it on over her head before leaving the bed. The shirt fell to the middle of her thighs.

"Tell me what's happening as quickly as you can," Arya instructed Varhog. He stared at her blankly as Willow convulsed in his arms. "Varhog, I can't help her unless I know what's going on. Use your mind."

Varhog replayed many images for Arya from the past week, starting with the moment of his near-abandonment, Willow's shock and devastation, the strange phenomenon of how she seemed to change at the same time every night, her growing pain at being in his presence, and all the symptoms she had shared with him. It only took a few seconds.

As he finished, Willow screamed, "NO! They're _dying!_ My babies. It's like my body doesn't want them and is rejecting them, but I want them so badly! Why is this happening?"

In a voice of terrible agony Varhog said, "Because part of them is from me."

Arya's eyes filled with tears. She used her mind to reach Willow's womb and saw the great struggle Willow described. "Set her down," she commanded. "You're not far off, Varhog, though it's not what you think. Willow has developed a strong repulsion to you because of the combined events of your first night together. I can cure it quickly."

Varhog shuddered at the clinical confirmation of what Arya suspected was his deepest fear. "Her revulsion has been growing by the day. She can barely stand to be in my presence."

"Repulsion," Arya corrected. "I didn't say revulsion, though that's what you and she both thought. I'll explain in a moment, but I need to attend to this immediately if the babies are to have a chance."

Arya removed the blanket from around Willow and saw the blood. "Eragon, get something for this blood. A cloth or rag from the kitchen or washroom." Eragon had put his pants on during the exchange and was standing anxiously by the bed, obviously wishing that he better understood what was happening. But he seemed grateful to have an assignment and immediately left the room, returning only a few moments later. Arya knelt on the bed behind Willow, whom Varhog had carefully set down. Willow curled over as if trying to protect the babies in her womb.

Arya moved Willow's hair off her back and began tapping the thumb and forefinger of one hand down the whole length of her spine, holding her fingers slightly spread so the pressure from her fingers landed on either side of Willow's back bone. She did this repeatedly for several minutes with an intense look of concentration on her face, but she spoke no words.

Then Arya moved in front of Willow and began applying light pressure in small, circular motions on various parts of her body. She started at Willow's big toe and moved in a line along her foot then up her leg, making a small deviation from the straight line she had followed a few inches up Willow's ankle. She lifted the skirt of Willow's dress so her leg would be exposed and continued her motions with practiced determination, very sure of every placement of her fingers.

When her movements were blocked by Willow, Arya swiftly unlaced the front of the dress so it would fall all the way open and pulled it off Willow's shoulders.

"Give me the rags, Eragon," Arya muttered. He handed them to her, and she pushed one between Willow's legs as a fresh gush of blood flowed out. "Lie down, Willow," Arya gently invited, noticing at the same time that Willow seemed unashamed to be so exposed in front of Eragon. She was grateful Willow had such an open nature, and she knew Eragon's only thoughts were of concern for Willow's wellbeing.

Willow did as asked. "I'm already feeling slightly better," she breathed in amazement. "Are you using magic?"

"No," Arya replied. "I'll explain in a moment. Let me concentrate." She had continued her circular, massaging motions, moving Willow's dress away from her hip to apply pressure in a few spots close together. Then she followed her invisible trail to the area right over Willow's womb and spent a great deal of time here, massaging gently but insistently and willing her efforts to be effective. She held her other hand over Willow's heart without touching her, circling it counterclockwise a few times.

Arya then continued her small, circular motions in a short line toward Willow's navel, veering off toward one side of Willow's body and curving up after touching down once more. To the onlookers, Arya knew her path would have no discernable pattern, but she was as sure as ever of what she was doing. She circled around Willow's chest with one hand, applying the same light massaging pressure at a few locations as if following a small side trail. With the other hand—the one she had been working with the whole time—she continued in a path up Willow's neck then over to her eye. The assisting hand again deviated from the main trail and worked down Willow's cheek toward her chin and around her lips. Then Arya was done with that treatment.

Willow was noticeably improved. Her breathing was even, and she no longer convulsed every few minutes. Arya looked at her kindly. "Any better?"

Willow nodded wordlessly, the same astonishment still in her eyes. Arya then said, "Turn onto your stomach so I can reach your back again. Varhog, come over here and take her hand."

At Arya's request, Varhog approached from his position by the wall, where he had withdrawn after setting Willow down. But he now hesitated, whispering, "It causes her pain when I touch her, especially at this time of night."

"It shouldn't as much anymore," Arya encouraged. "Have you two made love recently?"

"We can't," Varhog said, shuddering.

Arya nodded, unsurprised. "Then we'll attend to that later. Take her hand," she said again. Varhog knelt by the side of the bed near Willow's head and reluctantly obeyed, but Willow didn't recoil.

Arya began the same, strange tapping pressure she had done at first and started explaining, less anxious than before. "This area of medicine takes years and years to study and understand. I have learned of it for decades and mastered the understanding and application. Now I need to try to summarize it in about ten minutes, because then you will have to leave for a time, Varhog. It's simply the study of energy in our bodies and has nothing to do with magic, just logic and observation. Our health is determined to a large extent by the flow—or blockage thereof—of energy through our bodies. The anatomy and physiology of humans, elves, Urgals, and dwarves is largely the same, so when I say body, what I say applies equally to all of us in this room.

"The energy in our bodies flows through a series of channels or pathways, if you will. They are not visible to the eye, but they're perceptible to the careful student. There are twelve of these pathways, and they flow one into the other to encompass the entire body. Each pathway involves a major organ, and the flow of energy takes two hours to work its way through each channel. So the flow of energy through our bodies repeats every twenty-four hours. The energy begins its course in the lung channel at about three in the morning, completing that cycle by about five in the morning. Then it flows in order through the other major organs, finishing in the liver from about one to three in the morning. Does that time frame sound familiar?" she asked Varhog.

Varhog nodded mutely, obviously not following Arya thus far. She continued, "When the energy flows unblocked through all of these channels one after the other, our bodies will be in balance and we will enjoy vibrant health. But if the energy gets blocked, it will lead to any number of unpleasant symptoms, usually manifesting more mildly initially and growing in intensity to lead to full-blown illness if left unchecked.

"Innumerable aggravators can cause blockages in the energy flow—injury, stress, powerful emotions, poor eating, lack of sleep, exposure to substances the brain interprets as harmful, and so many more. The list is endless. Most people refer to these types of blockages as allergies, though they don't realize how encompassing that term can really be. This they do because the particular substance that caused the blockage created a physical manifestation that was easy to observe, such as swelling, hives, blisters, wheezing, and so forth. What it all comes down to, however, is that the energy of the person with the illness repels the energy of the substance that causes their illness.

"All things, inanimate and living, have an electromagnetic—or energetic—field around them. Stones, dirt, the rays of the sun, even thoughts and emotions, and obviously plants and animals. For the most part, people move in harmony with all of the energy fields around them, and their own energy attracts it, which allows for a peaceful coexistence. However, there are situations where our brains might interpret certain stimuli in a negative way and create the beginnings of an energy repulsion, like when the same charged pole of two magnets is forced together, but the natural reaction is for them to move away.

"As I said, the list is endless as to what one could have an energy repulsion to, as well as how it might begin or manifest. For our purposes, quite simply, the powerful negative emotional experience Willow had after you first made love confused her brain. She was feeling intense joy, though she was in pain from your accidental injury and all of a sudden, without any cause her brain could identify, she felt devastating shock and despair.

"Her brain fired all cylinders in its attempt to make sense of the dizzying play of emotions and the literal pain it caused her, wanting to identify what was responsible for her pain so it could prepare defenses in case of a future exposure. It made a connection between several unrelated things that had all happened around the same time—the figurative burning of her passion and the literal heat of your exchange, the emotional pain of your near-abandonment, and the physical presence of your semen within her body—and her brain drew a mistaken conclusion. As the culprit for Willow's pain, her brain settled on the one major difference it could identify in her. You, Varhog. Your smell, your taste, the sound of your voice, the feel of your skin, and above all, your semen.

"That—your semen—was the most tangible physical difference in Willow at the moment of her distress. The other things—your smell and voice and all the other sensory stimuli—were fresh and recent memories, and while familiar to her, were also completely different in the way she had just experienced them. They made an indelible impression on her, one her mind couldn't ignore. So with what information it was able to gather, her brain drew the false conclusion that your physical, sensory effects were the source of her emotional agony, and it categorized everything about you, especially your semen, as a dire threat to Willow. The simplest way to put it is that her brain made her allergic to you, and the most serious allergen was your semen, which her brain connected with the burning sensations and heat right before it appeared, as well as the negative emotions just after.

"And this experience and her brain's conclusion all happened during the two hour stretch when her liver energy pathway was active, so that's where the most powerful energy blockage occurred. The new energy impulse—that you were a threat—made its way through all twelve energy pathways over the next twenty-four hours, informing them all of the new and potent danger to Willow's health. By the time the cycle was complete the following night, the damage was done. Her brain forced her body to react in certain ways to try to get her away from what it perceived as grave danger, reminding her of the shock and pain of the first night."

Varhog looked stricken, and Arya reassured, "I know it sounds bad, but I'm only trying to explain why it happened. Already her body is receiving a different message, and her brain is now processing that. Our brains are magnificent and powerful, capable of so much more than we ever think possible. They have countless stimuli to process at every second of every day, along with the countless bodily functions they command and direct, whether conscious or unconscious. When something powerfully emotional like this happens, with so much sensory stimulation at the same time, sometimes it's too much for our brain to objectively sort out and it draws an erroneous conclusion."

The men both looked confused, so Arya tried a different angle. "Have you ever had the experience of eating a certain food while in a heightened and negative emotional state, and then at some future point eaten that same food to find it caused some type of negative physical reaction, such as a headache, nausea, swelling, or itching?" They both nodded.

Arya continued, "Most people then declare they are allergic to said food, which is true in a way but not for the reason they think. The food itself didn't cause the physical reaction. It was the fact that at some previous time, the brain connected the eating of that particular food to the powerful emotion they were experiencing at the time—a completely unrelated thing—but something the brain observed and recorded. As subconscious as it is, most people never even consciously remember the negative emotion they felt while eating the food, but the brain remembers.

"The unpleasant physical manifestation is simply the brain's reminder to you of the earlier negative emotion when you are exposed to the same stimulus by eating that food again. The brain erroneously thinks one caused the other and that you should be warned because of the negative emotion's potential threat to your health. It mistakenly connects the two—the action and the emotion—and reminds you with a physical manifestation of the emotion every time the food is presented. It's an amazing system—but not always infallible—that our brain has developed to keep us safe from the many threats to our health.

"But the brain is malleable and can learn a different way. It's not much different from learning that some type of knowledge you always thought true is actually false and accepting the new information as truth from then on. What I have been doing is creating a different message for Willow's brain to accept when it comes to you, Varhog.

"All of the energy pathways intersect the spine at some point. When I tapped down her spine, it created a light pressure that reverberated along each energy pathway, beginning to clear any obstructions. But since the blockage was most complete and serious in her liver pathway, I followed that trail, starting in her big toe and from there along its entire meandering length to clear the whole pathway at its major pressure points.

"I had you hold her hand this last time I've tapped her spine so I can clear the energy pathways while she is in direct contact with what her body perceives as a threat. When I clear the pathways in the presence of the allergen, it is essentially sending a new message to her brain that this so-called threat is actually safe and benign, and that _new_ energy impulse will gradually make its way through each of the twelve channels until it comes back to her liver pathway." Arya had stopped the tapping motions and resumed the circular pressure at the points of the liver pathway, instructing Varhog to continue holding Willow's hand.

Eragon asked, "What were you doing when you swirled your hand over her heart while massaging over her womb?"

Arya looked at him and said, "I swirled my hand counterclockwise to move energy out of the reproductive organs and into the heart center. There are seven main energy stores or centers in the body, and Willow's reproductive store was overloaded." She then returned her focus to Varhog.

"I'm glad you came when you did, though if you had come earlier, these last several days might not have been so hard. When left unchecked, energy incompatibilities as strong as these lead to serious disease, which I'm sure is not hard for you to imagine, given how Willow's health has deteriorated these last few days. You would have never been able to make love again because her reaction to your semen would have only gotten worse and worse. That alone would have been devastating enough, but if you attempted to stay together, Willow would have only gotten sicker. Had you been able to make love and she then conceived, she never would have been able to carry a child to full term. Her body would have always rejected the part of the child from you. Many a broken marriage or lost pregnancy has been the result on some level of an energy repulsion or incompatibility.

"I know it's sometimes hard for people to accept that they could be allergic to another person, but it is not so different from a person being allergic to any living being or any nonliving thing—a cat, a bee, grass or pollen, you get the point. All of these things, even emotions and thoughts, have an energy frequency that might for some inexplicable reason be incompatible with our own energy field, when it does not create the same reaction in other individuals. It's why some people are deathly allergic to fish, though other people can eat it every day. It all comes down to energy and whether our brain accepts or rejects it. Thankfully, it's a relatively simple matter to reverse. But unfortunately, very few people have this knowledge.

"The reaction Willow had to you took place on every level that such a thing can occur: physically—meaning perceivable on the surface or by the senses; chemically or physiologically—meaning affecting the function of the organs; and emotionally, which is obvious enough. All of the symptoms you described fit perfectly with a serious physical, chemical, and emotional blockage in the liver energy pathway. Her physical symptoms were headaches, vertigo, fevers, blurred vision, spasms in the extremities, and the feeling of obstruction in the throat. Physiologically, her symptoms were pain in the chest and abdomen, inability to urinate or relieve oneself, and dizziness, among others she might not have recognized. This attempt at a miscarriage would probably also fit there. Emotional symptoms were aggression, anger and rage, moodiness, and crying at everything. And the reason the most intense episode always happened when you observed, from about one to three in the morning, is because that was when her energy was passing through the liver channel, where the most serious blockage was.

"The liver pathway passes right through the reproductive organs and that was the very site of the most tangible difference in Willow—both emotionally and physically—when the blockage was first created. Her reproductive organs had experienced for the very first time the powerful sensations that culminate in a sexual climax, and they were also the location of your semen when you almost left." Varhog's expression of anguish was heart-wrenching.

"Do not despair, Varhog," Arya counseled. "You don't need to continue to feel guilty about this. You have apologized most admirably, and Willow has accepted. Were it not for her brain's mistaken interpretation of the situation, none of this would have happened. And it will be as if it didn't—except for any memory you choose to retain of it—once Willow's body has had time to process this new energy impulse, the one where her brain no longer perceives you as a danger.

"But for this treatment to be effective, she must not be exposed to you through any of her senses for the next twenty-four or so hours. This will give the new energy impulse the opportunity to travel unhindered by exposure to you through each of her energy pathways, all the way back to the liver channel and completely through its loop. Her body will then accept it as the correct way of interpreting you. If an exposure to the allergen happens at any time during the twenty-four hours following a treatment, the brain automatically calls on its defense mechanisms and the treatment is lost, since the body hasn't had time to fully receive and process the new message through all twelve pathways. You need to leave, Varhog. That is why I have tried to explain swiftly and briefly.

"This area of medicine is, as I said, extremely complex and comprehensive, involving every system of the body, the muscles, the brain, the understanding of energy and how to clear energy pathways through various methods. Some practitioners even use very fine needles at the site of blockage to create a literal opening for the blocked energy to flow out of. The pressure I've applied works in the same way. I think we'll also need to do another treatment after this one is complete, with Willow in contact with your semen, to be very sure her allergy is cleared, since that is the most powerful aggravator. But it will have to happen after this initial treatment. Is there anything else you wish for me to explain before you go?"

-:-:-

Varhog had stonily listened to the whole explanation. He knew he should do as Arya instructed and not feel guilty, but he couldn't see it any other way than that all of this was all his fault, totally and completely. He was grateful for the understanding and more grateful Willow would be fine, but he felt he _should_ be expected to leave, as some type of punishment for his wrongs. He curtly shook his head to answer Arya's question and stood to leave, dropping Willow's hand.

She reached for him imploringly. All the time Arya had been speaking, she had been looking at him with relief in her eyes as her understanding of the situation increased by the moment. Varhog had seen her silent message of love and acceptance, no longer tainted by an uncontrolled reaction, and it had been a salve to his wounded soul, but he felt this penance was his due.

Willow said, "Can't I hug him goodbye or touch him one last time?"

"No, Willow," Arya gently denied. "He must leave at once. Even being able to see or hear him is enough, so severe was your reaction. Varhog, you may return in the early hours of tomorrow morning after three o'clock."

As Varhog started moving toward the door, Willow whispered, "Goodbye, sweetheart. Come back to me."

When he didn't look at her or acknowledge her words in any way while continuing out the door, Willow must have felt frightened, thinking he might not mean to come back, for she cried, "Stop!" The panic in her voice got his attention, and Varhog stopped with his back to them. "Come back to me!" Willow desperately demanded. "When you can!"

Varhog nodded once before striding swiftly toward the front door and breaking into a run as he reached it. His low, agonized howl followed him out into the night.


	29. Recovery

**29\. Recovery**

Tears again filled Arya's eyes, but she was as business-like as ever as she said to Eragon, "Eragon, take Willow to the washroom and set her in the basin. We need to wash all traces of Varhog off of her."

Willow sucked in a shuddering breath and began to sob. Eragon gently lifted her in his arms, not at all embarrassed by the nakedness of her torso—her dress was still around her waist—or his own. Willow was as his sister, and she confirmed her mutual feelings by whispering into his neck as she put her arms around it, "Thank you, brother."

Eragon couldn't control his emotions any longer, and tears welled up in his eyes at Willow's words. The whole situation had been terribly tense and confusing for him. The most obvious things he had been able to observe were Willow's desperate physical and emotional pain as her body threatened to end her pregnancy—which discovery had been surprising enough—coupled with Varhog's emotional devastation. And seeing all the blood had been awful. Eragon had shed enough blood in his life to be content never to see any more again and to witness it gushing out of Willow had been very troubling. Arya's explanation had helped him understand somewhat better, but he still didn't grasp the full enormity of the situation, as he hadn't been privy to Varhog's mental explanation.

Arya stayed right next to his side as they made the short trip to the washroom, soothing Willow by stroking her hair as they walked. "Shhh, my darling. It will be fine. Varhog will return. Feel your babies now. They're safe."

Willow sobbed all the harder, obviously completely overcome by the experiences of her previous week. Eragon could easily imagine that having it all nearly end in a miscarriage was far more than she could bear.

Eragon gently set her in the washbasin, and Arya helped Willow remove the blood-soaked dress. "This is a beautiful garment," she said. "Would you like me to remove the blood with magic?" Willow nodded gratefully. Arya added the small amount of water from the nearby jug to the basin, requesting, "Eragon, would you please fetch more, darling?"

Eragon gladly did so. When he returned, he knew that Arya saw his desire for greater understanding, and after his final trip to refill the pitcher, as she began to gently wash Willow, Arya said in his mind, _Eragon, ask me whatever questions you want, but let us not trouble Willow any further with an open discussion of this topic right now. This past week was practically enough to kill them both._

Eragon looked at her gratefully and mentally asked his questions, all of which Arya thoroughly answered while Willow closed her eyes and wearily submitted to Arya's ministrations.

When Arya was done, Eragon was completely incredulous.

 _Imagine if it had been us,_ Arya said. _I thought our trials were difficult to overcome._

 _Varhog must be dying inside,_ Eragon said. _I would rather die than almost kill you as a result of making love. The pain Willow felt after that last time was unbelievable._

Arya nodded fervently, and Willow finally opened her eyes. She smiled faintly and said, "You two are welcome to speak aloud about it. Hearing you discuss it will never compare with having to live through it."

Eragon compassionately said, "I'm so sorry, Willow. You're strong to have endured all that. So is Varhog. But it seems things will be better now, won't they, my love?" he finished, addressing Arya.

Arya confirmed, "Yes, things should be better now. And it won't take long either, though I'm sure this enforced absence will seem like much longer than it needs to be." She paused for a moment then added with a heretofore unseen twinkle in her eye, as if she expected to be amused, "I _am_ curious about something Varhog shared." Willow looked at her questioningly. "That last time you made love before your most intense outburst, it seemed from the tone of his mind that it had been going on for quite some time, though he courteously tried to spare me the unnecessary details. Was that the case?"

Willow's smile widened slightly. "Yes. Apparently since he's an Urgal, Varhog can continue with his lovemaking efforts without any need for recovery. That ability made for some very long passionate exchanges."

Eragon took this quite well, raising his eyebrows and saying with a look of playful envy, "Is that so? Well, that explains what we've overheard every night of our stay. That would be interesting, don't you think, Arya? Do you now wish you had married an Urgal instead of a human?"

Arya laughed softly, clearly relieved they had somehow found some humor in this depressing situation. "No, darling. Never. It seems not to matter whether you have recovered for me to continue enjoying our time together, so I suppose the only one missing out is you."

Eragon smiled and said, "I can't envy Varhog something completely outside of my control, since I'm of another species. It seems it would get quite exhausting, but I say that with only my current context and understanding. Perhaps with the strength and stamina of an Urgal, I too would enjoy endless lovemaking."

Willow looked at them gratefully. "Thank you, Eragon," she sincerely said. "Thank you for helping me feel better right now. Thank you, Arya, for saving my babies." Tears came to her eyes. "And for helping us understand what was happening and reversing the terrible conclusion of my brain. I'd be dying right now if my body had completed its rejection of these babies when I want them so much."

"I'm so glad you came to me and that I had the knowledge of how to help you," Arya said. "Not many are familiar with this field of medicine. Not all elves have the interest to study it. I was worried that if I tried to do anything with magic, it would harm the babies, as tiny as they are and as tenuous as their connection was with your brain trying to end it." She shook her head, apparently wishing to dwell on more cheerful things. " _Two_ babies, Willow! How wonderful! You'll have twins only a few months after our child is born, and they will have each other for playmates. I never thought I would experience the privilege of being surrounded by three precious babies all at once. And you will most likely have many children, so the joy will be prolonged all the more."

"And we very well could, as well," Eragon confidently said. Arya looked at him adoringly, and Willow seemed to enjoy their happiness.

"You two are such good examples to me," she honestly said. "And Varhog has told me many times what your example has meant to him, Eragon. It has shaped how he tries to act in every situation, how he perceives and expresses affection, and his efforts to always be mature and in control of himself. He does amazingly. Though you're younger, he highly esteems you as a mentor."

Eragon was modestly abashed. "That means a lot to me, Willow. Thank you. I greatly admire Varhog. There are many ways I wish to be more like him. I'm honored to know you, and from now on, I hope you'll enjoy the tender happiness you both deserve. It seems the deepest love springs from the most difficult trials of that love, when they are endured and overcome through faith." Willow nodded her agreement.

"I've finished washing you," Arya then said. "I'm sorry it sounded so harsh before when I said we needed to remove all traces of Varhog from you. I know how difficult this must be for you. Once Eragon and I were reunited, I wished never to be apart from him again. Our longest separation since that time was during the short flight back to the city from the wilderness, when we each flew on our own dragons."

As Arya reached for a towel to offer Willow, Eragon stood and said, "I'll go while you get dressed, Willow." He left the room, closing the door behind himself.

-:-:-

Arya helped Willow get out of the water and dry off. Then Arya placed the dress in the washbasin, murmuring words in the ancient language that made the blood seep out of the material. Arya lifted the dress and used a different spell to extract all of the water.

Willow did the same thing with her hair and picked up the hairbrush laying on the counter, asking, "May I use this?"

"Yes, but let me," Arya insisted. "I want to return the favor. Thanks to your kind gesture on the day you helped me prepare for my wedding, I have now enjoyed the pleasure of someone brushing my hair many times. Eragon loves to do it, and I love it when he does. Let's get you dressed so you can sit down. You must be feeling weak and tired."

Willow nodded. "And hungry," she admitted.

Arya smiled. "Yes, I imagine your appetite will rival the males' with the demands of growing two babies. My own has been steadily increasing. Sometimes I feel ravenous, which is irritating in the middle of the night and I want to be sleeping." She made a face then smiled again. "I still can't believe it! I'm so happy for you, Willow!" She helped Willow into the dress and gave her a hug. "This is lovely," she commented once the dress was on. "Where did you get it?" Willow explained the custom of the Urgals.

"They never cease to amaze me," Arya commented. "They have so many beautiful traditions and customs, and all this time the rest of us, for the most part, have been thinking them violent, bloodthirsty beasts. Shame on us! Though the elves have a greater understanding of the true ways of the Urgralgra, I would be lying if I said I didn't previously hold some grudges against them. I witnessed Urgals kill someone very dear to me. But now I feel I would be happy to remain in this village forever, with all the children around, with all of the women who are so happy to be wives and mothers, and who find such fulfillment in the work and roles they love best."

Willow nodded. "I agree. The hut Varhog built feels more like a home than anywhere I've ever lived. It started to feel like we were already a family on that first day. I know I would be happy to live here, especially if you did too, but I understand that we must eventually return to the Isle. At least with dragons, the trip to visit isn't an impossibility, as it otherwise would be." Then she asked, "How is your pregnancy? I haven't been keeping track of how far along you are."

Arya smiled radiantly at the mention of her baby. "I'm about ten weeks along. The embryo has passed an important milestone. Its heart has been beating for over a month and all of its internal organs are developed, though they're tiny and immature and don't function as they will. Now the baby is referred to as a fetus. From this point, most babies continue to develop until they are ready to be born."

"Are you going to learn what sex you're having before then?" Willow wondered.

"I think I could with my mind," Arya replied, "but I want to be surprised. I'll have to be careful not to observe that area of the baby when I check on it with my mind."

"Are you nervous for the birth?" Willow asked.

Arya seemed to guess exactly what she was thinking. "Willow, what you just went through was _not_ a natural function of the womb. It was working against its entire purpose, which is to nurture and protect the baby until the time for its birth has arrived. You felt pain because your uterus wanted to hold onto your babies while your brain was trying to get it to remove them.

"To answer your question, no, I'm not nervous for the birth. I've never been more excited for anything in my life. Never fear, Willow. Under my tutelage, you will soon come to anticipate the birth of your babies for more than the reasons most women do—to end their discomfort and meet their baby. The birth itself will be one of the highlights of your life. You'll never feel more empowered or more humbled by your creative ability as a woman. And to bring two babies to this world within minutes of each other will only double your joy and satisfaction."

Willow whispered, "Thank you for painting that picture for me, Arya. The memories of my mother dying after my brother's birth will always haunt me. I wish she had known what you know. I'm so glad I'll be blessed to learn from someone like you."

Arya took her hand and squeezed it. "Come, I can see standing so long is tiring you and making the ache in your womb more pronounced." She guided Willow out into the front room.

Eragon was preparing something to eat. "I heard you say you were hungry," he explained. "We ate together often enough on the Isle that I thought I might at least get close to coming up with something you would like."

"Thank you, brother," Willow said. "That was thoughtful."

"Eragon is nothing if not thoughtful," Arya bragged. "He's the kindest gentleman I have ever met."

Eragon looked up for the first time to smile at Arya. When his eyes fell on Willow in her dress, he raised his eyebrows.

Willow blushed. "Only a few minutes ago you carried me mostly naked from your bedroom to the washroom. Now that the moment has passed, I feel slightly embarrassed to be wearing this revealing dress in front of you. I'm sure it was meant for Varhog's eyes only. Though in comparison, your reaction just then was nothing. He was astounded." She smiled at the memory. "He hadn't ever seen me like this before."

Eragon and Arya both laughed, each able to picture Varhog's reaction with no difficulty. "I can see why," Eragon said without any impropriety. "But you needn't be embarrassed. You're very beautiful, Willow, but as you have implied many times, you're as a sister to me. I don't see you that way. However, if _Arya_ was wearing that dress, it would be a different story. I probably would have reacted much as Varhog, especially if it was the first time her beautiful body had ever been revealed to me in such plain detail."

Eragon returned his attention to his task, and Arya helped Willow over to the sofa. Willow sat sideways with her knees pulled up, leaning her shoulder into the cushions beside her. Arya knelt behind her and began brushing her hair in slow, easy strokes, careful not to tug. Eragon brought Willow a plate with a simple though plentiful selection of colorful fruits and vegetables, a dip made from ground nuts, some cheese, and hard bread.

Willow accepted the plate with a soft, "Thank you," and began to eat. Between bites she said, "I'm sorry to waken you both so early. We meant to come back to the village later today, but when one in the morning rolled around and my reaction started, I knew it couldn't wait."

Arya reassured, "You needn't apologize, Willow. After you're finished, we can all once again retire and rest as long as we please. This visit to Alagaёsia has been an extended luxury vacation. We have nothing pressing to attend to tomorrow."

Arya finished brushing before Willow finished eating so she got herself a snack. Eragon had fixed the broken door with magic to stem the flow of cold air into the hut. After starting a fire in the hearth, he crossed his arms over his bare chest and rubbed them, commenting, "It has been many years since I've experienced a winter up north in the mountains. I've become coddled in my time on the Isle. We're barely through the fall and I already find myself uncomfortably cold."

With an amused smile Arya said, "It would probably help if you had a shirt on."

Eragon returned her smile, walking to her side so he could wrap his arms around her. "I so often have your help staying warm when I'm like this that I never notice the cold. But now that you mention it, a shirt _would_ be nice." He grinned. "I would most likely have mine on if it wasn't otherwise occupied at the moment."

Arya gasped at the realization that she still had his shirt on. She set down her snack and almost removed it on the spot. Then she must have remembered Willow. "I'll go get dressed," she said and quickly left.

While she was gone, though it was only a few moments, Willow looked at Eragon and cautiously said, "Eragon, I have a favor to ask."

"What is it, Willow?" Eragon kindly invited. "You can ask anything of me."

Willow took a deep breath. "I don't know if it's even appropriate to ask. I just . . ." She trailed off. "Never mind," she finished pitifully.

Eragon knelt by her side on the floor as Arya reentered the room and approached with his shirt. Eragon quickly pulled it on before taking Willow's hand and encouraging, "You may ask, Willow."

Willow stared at her knees and said, "Varhog hasn't been able to touch me for so many days. I'm cold and have felt so lonely. I just wondered if you might be willing to hold me in your arms while I sleep tonight. I understand if you won't or if you don't approve, Arya. I suppose it's only fair that if Varhog has to be alone, I should too."

Eragon gently rested one hand on her back. "I'd be happy to, Willow."

Arya added, "I have no objection, sister. I understand how it feels to be cold and lonely. There's nothing like a strong man's arms to provide warmth and reassurance." She smiled and playfully added, "Eragon will be plenty warm, with you in his arms and me pressed to his side. Won't you, darling?"

Willow looked over in time to see Eragon kiss Arya on the cheek. Then Eragon turned back to her and said, "I'll carry you. Are you ready now?"

Willow nodded. Arya stood, taking the empty plate from the sofa and setting it on the table. Eragon lifted Willow in his arms as he stood, and they all returned to the bed, which was as big as the one Willow and Varhog had, as it too had been built to accommodate the large stature of the Urgals. Eragon sat down while still cradling Willow, scooting back and shifting around until he felt comfortable. Arya helped by adjusting pillows behind his back. He loosened his hold on Willow so she could slide over next to him and lean against his chest. Eragon clasped his hands around her shoulder, and Arya pulled a blanket over all of them as she laid down, snuggling into his other side.

"Everyone comfortable?" Arya softly asked.

Willow made no reply, since she was already asleep, so Eragon said with his mind, _I'm comfortable, my love. Thank you for your help. She seemed tired._

 _Exhausted,_ Arya agreed _. The physical and emotional trauma she suffered this week was immense. She's an amazingly strong woman. And you're a good man. What you're doing for her right now is the most healing thing that could be done, short of what I did earlier._

Eragon looked over at Arya in the darkness, able to see her perfectly. She was looking back at him. _You were amazing. I don't think I'll ever learn all of your secrets, all of the knowledge you have inside that mind of yours._

Arya smiled. _Give yourself another hundred years. You'll catch up soon enough._

Eragon also smiled, leaning toward Arya to give her a kiss. As he returned his chin to the top of Willow's head, he asked, _How do you suppose Varhog is doing?_

Arya sighed. _Not well, I would imagine. He felt wholly responsible for the situation and seemed to feel that his necessary absence was some type of deserved exile._

Eragon said, _I think I'd probably feel that way, like I deserved to be punished._

Arya nodded, and Eragon felt her drowsiness. They had retired at a late hour, and the startling intrusion had happened only a short time after. Now that the worst of it was over, their adrenaline had worn off. Eragon's last thought to Arya was, _Sleep well, my love._ Then he allowed himself to slip into his waking dreams.

-:-:-:-


	30. Penance

**30\. Penance**

Varhog ran as far as he could without tiring before he stopped, which was a great distance. Then he asked Black Thunder to come down and made him fly as far as he could. He was deep in the Spine, miles away from his village, and the pain in his heart seemed only to grow with every mile they flew. At well past midday, he finally said to his dragon, _Turn back. I must be able to return by tonight._

The dragon turned in a wide loop and began to retrace his flight. _My son, you are the only one who hasn't forgiven yourself over this,_ Black Thunder admonished, perfectly aware of every detail of Varhog's past week.

 _I know, but how can I?_ Varhog demanded. _Why couldn't I think things through for one second before threatening to abandon Willow immediately after joining with her? What kind of fool am I! If I forgive myself, I fear I will forget my stupidity and live to make a mistake of similar gravity in the future. See how dire the consequences have been of my one great moment of rashness?_

 _Yes,_ Black Thunder replied, _but consequences are the natural result of every choice, good or evil. They will always follow. To forgive is not to forget, but to remember with peace. If you forget, you will not learn from your mistakes, but if you forgive, you will learn from them and move forward with peace and the wisdom to act better in the future. Your mate has forgiven you, and so have the other two privy to the events. But Willow's forgiveness is all that matters. And now your own. Please, my son. Let your pain go. It harms no one but you and is not a necessary penance but a deadly poison. If allowed to remain, it will only grow and fester, perhaps eventually destroying your marriage in a way more devastating than this last week threatened to do. You might come to feel you always deserved Willow's loathing and change from the ram you are now into one who actually_ does _deserve her disdain. Forgiveness is the tool that provides healing balm to our wounded souls. Do not reunite with Willow tonight with this agony still darkening your heart. You know she will be overjoyed to see you, and she will wish for you to be as well. If you stubbornly cling to your pain in some misguided attempt to atone for your wrongs, it will do more harm than anything and no good at all. Forgive yourself,_ he touchingly finished, with gentle insistence.

Varhog bent over his dragon's neck, wrapping his great arms as far around him as he could. _Thank you, my father._ Tears began to flow from his tightly closed eyes, continuing for several hours as Varhog attempted to do as his dragon counseled and forgive himself.

-:-:-:-


	31. The Urgralgra Way of Life

**31\. The Urgralgra Way of Life**

Arya, Eragon, and Willow all slept long past daybreak, but the former two awoke before Willow. As soon as Eragon knew his wife was awake, they mentally communicated that they would quietly leave Willow to continue resting and go attempt to explain to Varhog's family what they must undoubtedly be concerned over, so Willow wouldn't be expected to explain it personally.

Arya got up and helped Eragon carefully remove himself out from under Willow's sleeping form. She was still deeply asleep, and the slight jostling did nothing to disturb her. After ascertaining that Willow was comfortable and warm, with a blanket drawn all the way up to her ears, they set a plate of food, a large jug of water, and a glass on the table next to the bed then left the hut.

Myrintuk was not hard to come by. She waited anxiously at her hut, hoping to hear something of the dreadful events of the night before, which had left her beside herself with worry and fear. When Eragon and Arya arrived, she interrupted their explanation so she could gather the other females of the family together, rightly guessing this was something they would all wish to hear as well as that Eragon and Arya would appreciate not having to share it repeatedly. Eragon also suggested that Murtagh and Nasuada be summoned, since Willow viewed Murtagh as more of a brother than she did Eragon. Murtagh was with her when Sunset hatched, helped Willow raise her dragon, comforted her when her father died, and flew with her to the Isle. As they were waiting for the family to gather, Eragon also repaired Myrintuk's damaged door with magic.

Once all were assembled, Arya began with the simplest explanation she could, telling everyone that Willow had found herself expecting twins, but when her body had threatened miscarriage, she and Varhog had come seeking her help. The news of the twins was met with excitement, once everyone was reassured they were healthy. But Myrintuk wasn't satisfied with the lack of details, for she had observed her beloved son abandon the hut at a dead run with an agonized howl on his lips and demanded now to know why.

Arya then saw it was necessary to expound the entire scope of the situation. She knew none in the family would be offended by details of Varhog and Willow's intimacy and that if she tried to leave them out, nothing would make sense anyway.

Everyone was silent and astounded as she finished the lengthy explanation, both by all that had happened to Willow and Varhog in their week away from the village as well as by how Arya had remedied the situation. Since some time had passed since she and Eragon had left their hut, Arya said, "I promised Willow we wouldn't leave her alone, and I fear she may awaken to find herself in that very dilemma. I'll remain here to answer questions, so would someone volunteer to go be with her?"

Myrin immediately arose and, while beginning to head for the door, said, "I'll go." She stood tall and strong, in spite of the fact her baby still had not been born, though signs her labor was imminent increased by the hour. Arya admired the proud Urgal woman. It seemed the Urgals viewed pregnancy as did the elves, seeing it as a privilege and the crowning achievement of a woman's creative power rather than an unwelcome though necessary ordeal to endure in order to have a child, which was the way most human and dwarven women seemed to view the affair, what with their complaints, poor posture, and waddling gait.

Arya hoped Myrin's baby would not be born before Varhog was able to return. She knew how much it meant to Myrin that her dear brother and his mate be present for the birth. Myrin had also consented to let Nasuada, Arya, and their husbands be present. Nasuada's time among humans and dwarves was her only exposure to the business, and she had confessed to Arya that she didn't agree with the negative perspective. Her native people—the Wandering Tribes—saw pregnancy and birth in much the same way as Urgals and elves, and Nasuada wished to witness a natural, gentle birth.

-:-:-

Myrin walked quickly to Firesword's hut, not even pausing when her womb tightened, a sign her body was preparing for the impending arrival of her baby. She quietly let herself in and went to the bedroom, where Willow was still sleeping with her arms wrapped around a pillow and a blanket all the way up to her ears. She looked comfortable and peaceful, which was amazing, considering the tribulation she had recently had to bear.

Myrin walked to the bed and gingerly laid down, resting a hand over the impression under the blanket made by Willow's arm. Myrin was saddened by all Varhog had endured at the mercy of Willow's strange malady, but given how upset she was upon first meeting Willow, Myrin was amazed to admit that she already loved this strong, sweet human for staying with Varhog, though it had caused her such pain.

Myrin ached for Varhog. He must have been feeling terrible agony that he couldn't be with Willow to ensure her safety and happiness, for the very reason that his presence would result in a relapse of her symptoms. Myrin was glad Varhog's absence was necessary for only a day.

Myrin moved her hand to the swelling of her womb as it tightened again—this time more powerfully than before—and her baby shifted inside. She knew the baby would soon be born. This was her fourth cub, and all of the signs that labor was all but upon her had appeared. She thought to her baby, _Please, little one. I know I've been begging you to come, but please wait just a while longer now. I want your uncle to be here when you arrive._

Willow stirred slightly, murmuring under her breath, and Myrin couldn't help but reach out and stroke her, so motherly were her instincts. On many occasions, she had comforted one of her children in the same manner as they snuggled next to her in bed.

-:-:-

Willow stirred even more, her eyelids fluttering. After a few more moments, she opened her eyes to find Myrin next to her, stroking her arm with a loving expression on her face. But it took her some time to be able to speak, during which Myrin sat and poured her a glass of water from the jug on the table.

"Here, Willow," Myrin instructed, handing her the glass. "Drink this. Your body will need more hydration now than ever before with the demands of growing your babies. Drinking enough water is one of the best ways to stay healthy and avoid nausea in your early pregnancy and throughout."

Willow struggled to sit up enough to avoid spilling the water out the side of her mouth as she drank. Once she had, she returned the empty glass to Myrin. "Thank you," she softly said. "You know?"

Myrin nodded, opening her arms to Willow, who gratefully leaned into Myrin's chest, unavoidably pressing into her round belly. Myrin continued stroking down Willow's arm and said, "Firesword and Arya went to our mother this morning, and she insisted that all the females in the family be gathered together so the story would only need to be told once. Murtagh and Lady Nightstalker were also present." She closed her eyes, slowly breathing in and out several times as her womb contracted.

Willow wonderingly said, "I could feel your womb tighten. It felt powerful."

"Yes, Willow. Everything that our womb does is powerful, starting with its essential role of growing the baby and ending with delivering it into our hands. And the labor surges are indeed strong and insistent. In the early stages of labor, all one must do is relax and breathe deeply—the womb will take care of its work. But as the labor advances, more focus is required to achieve sufficient relaxation so that the efforts of the womb will not be perceived as painful. Once the task of opening is complete, the blessed moment of active participation arrives, and the mother can assist her womb in gently pushing her baby out, which is the most beautiful experience imaginable. I'm thrilled you will be able to experience it for yourself within a matter of months, and I'm delighted to get to share it with you at the birth of this baby. My only worry now is that the baby will come _too_ soon, though I've been eagerly awaiting its arrival for weeks. I want Varhog to be here."

At mention of her husband, Willow's joyful expression dissolved into deep emptiness and longing.

"I know you want him to be here, sweet Willow," Myrin soothed. "And I'm also certain that he desires to be here with you more than anything else. He will soon return and you'll be reunited without further fear that your body will ever want to be apart from him again. Thank you for trying to stay with him though it hurt you so greatly. He's one of the best rams I've ever known. _The_ best, next to my own mate and my sire."

Willow nodded fervently at her last statement. "Why are _you_ here? I'm inexpressibly grateful, but I'm just curious."

Myrin smiled and said, "I volunteered. Arya didn't want you to be alone when you woke, but she knew she would be needed to answer questions. The whole explanation was quite a shock to everyone, just as it was to you."

"Thank you," Willow whispered. "It means so much to me that you in particular came. I feel Varhog is somehow closer since it's you." When Myrin remained silent, only answering Willow with another loving smile, Willow said, "Will you please tell me more of how Urgals view all things related to childbirth, babies, and mothering? I'm so anxious to learn all I can. I want my birth to be the kind of experience you and Arya describe it as."

"Yes, Willow," Myrin said. "I would be happy to. Birth is an indescribably beautiful experience. I never knew how humans viewed it until just this last week. Lady Nightstalker, Firesword, and Arya have all described the most disturbing picture imaginable, which, they assure me, is how most humans view the blessed event. I also learned that your mother died after childbirth, which saddens me greatly. No Urgralgra woman has ever died from complications surrounding the birth of a child. We trust the process so completely. The female body is designed to do its job in a perfect and effortless way, in the same way it effortlessly breathes and pumps our blood for us. So too should a birth be easy. It's not effortless, necessarily. You will see that it's called labor for a reason, because it is some of the hardest physical work your body will ever perform. But it should happen painlessly, like breathing and pumping blood and countless other functions of the body. You'll see what I mean when this baby is born."

Willow was listening in rapt attention. She would never forget the screams of agony coming from her mother's mouth during the birth of her baby brother. It had been so terrifying and felt so unnatural. What Myrin was describing sounded so much more like what Willow expected birth should be.

Myrin continued, "After the birth, the baby should soon be placed on the mother's body. It can be placed over her abdomen, which is best, or near her breasts. I say over her abdomen is best because the baby will gradually begin to move itself toward her breasts with reflexive movements of its legs and arms, assisting the mother's loose and empty womb in shrinking back down and delivering the tree of life. This is how we refer to the organ that develops along with the baby, providing a barrier between the baby and the mother, which both protects it and gives it life from her body. This organ is born soon after the baby itself, and these movements from the baby on its mother's body assure that the afterbirth happens in a timely manner so the womb can stop bleeding.

"The baby is born with reflexes that allow it to move itself toward its mother's breast, where it instinctively knows it will find the milk that will give it nourishment for many years." Myrin paused as Willow lifted her eyebrows.

Myrin smiled. "Yes, I said _years_. The other two females, Arya and Lady Nightstalker, were also surprised to witness our young ones nursing at the breast into early childhood. You'll see it just as soon as you're able to be among our women for even a few minutes. How do you think our rams grow so strong and tall? They're nourished at their mother's breast until five, six, seven years of age, even longer in some cases. By then, of course, it's not with the frequency and need of a newborn infant. Often the older child simply seeks the reassuring love of his mother's arms in a gesture more natural and familiar to them than anything, since it's the first thing they do in life.

"Varhog nursed at mother's breast until he was six, the longest of any of our siblings. Mother often thought it was why he was closest to her. For many years after I was born, we nursed together, which, I believe, is why we're so close. Mother never allowed bickering or fighting at her breasts, so we simply became accustomed to getting along. When Naynuk was born, Varhog continued desiring the reassurance for about another year, but it was only once every other day or so. Weaning is a very natural thing when breastfeeding is allowed to follow this course.

"The breastmilk, while essential for life in the newborn as the only thing that will provide the full nutrition it needs as well as the only thing it can swallow, is always valuable and beneficial for any child, no matter their age. It provides them with a foundation of good health for their whole life. We rarely, _rarely_ have sick children here."

"That's lovely," Willow murmured. "I wonder if my brother, William, was so sickly because he couldn't have mother's milk. He died at age five and was almost constantly sick his whole life. We couldn't find a wet nurse to care for him so we did the best we could with formulas made from goat's milk and other ingredients recommended by midwives. I'm grateful to be learning this. I suppose it's good I have two breasts. I'll be able to feed both my babies at once."

Myrin nodded. "Yes, two babies at once is less common than one, but almost never will a mother with only two breasts naturally conceive three babies. To a cat or a pig with many teats, a whole litter will be born, and they will all find the nourishment they need. But our bodies seem to know what we're able to handle and try wherever possible not to exceed those demands. While it will take some getting used to at first, with some help from Varhog, I expect that feeding both of your babies at the same time will quickly seem the most natural thing in the world, and I daresay it will be quite enjoyable too. Nothing is more satisfying than knowing that your body has continued uninterrupted in providing the full nourishment your baby needs after it has separated from your womb." She paused as Willow smiled near the end of her speech. "What's funny?"

Willow laughed. "When you said it would be enjoyable, I was just thinking that wasn't too hard to imagine. Nothing was more enjoyable for me than when Varhog used his mouth to explore my breasts. Perhaps he was so good at it because he had so many years of practice."

Myrin smiled. "I'm glad you discovered that pleasure early on, sister. It truly is the most wonderful part of lovemaking, in my opinion. I think all the rams enjoy it, as it reminds them of the beautiful, pure bond they had with their mothers, one which they can again enjoy in a more passionate setting with their mates. For the Urgralgra, the breasts are highly honored and revered as the center and source of all life and happiness a woman can offer her children and her mate. They're never viewed in an inappropriate or lustful manner. Indeed, the thought never occurred to me until the humans told me such a view is sometimes held by the coarser men of your race. That's abominable, in my mind.

"Firesword and Murtagh were most surprised to observe the older children nursing as easily as the younger. The women sometimes go about with their breasts uncovered simply for the ease it provides. When a young one or two is constantly coming for milk and going just as quickly, it's much easier not to have to uncover and recover yourself. No one thinks anything of it around here. But you should have seen Murtagh, in particular. Firesword seemed to have some preparation for it, perhaps from Arya, who seems to share many Urgralish views when it comes to these things. But Murtagh was very uncomfortable." She laughed at the memory and Willow joined her, perfectly able to picture Murtagh's discomfort.

"It seems he has grown more accustomed to it, and I believe Lady Nightstalker has also benefited." Myrin's eyes twinkled. "Apparently Murtagh had not yet discovered that such an expression was desirable or pleasurable for a woman. Firesword and Arya seemed to have stumbled upon it early on, like you and Varhog. I believe my uncle, of all people, first encouraged Murtagh to give it a try. I think Lady Nightstalker has been more content and relaxed these last few days, if you understand my meaning."

Willow laughed. "I love how natural and easy it feels to discuss these things. It reminds me of my first day with Varhog. He accidentally entered the washroom as I was relieving myself. Thinking I'd be embarrassed, he turned to go, but I invited him to stay. He then relieved himself right after as I looked on. It was unlikely, but I felt no awkwardness. It seemed only natural, as this does now."

Myrin gave Willow a gentle squeeze. At that moment, another surge tightened her womb, and she grabbed Willow's hand, placing it on top. "See how strong and firm it gets?" she said, once again breathing deeply to relax. When the sensation passed, Willow felt the noticeable change in the shape and tautness of her womb. "The time between that one and the last one was longer," Myrin observed. "Which is good. Maybe the baby really will wait until Varhog returns. He'll appreciate seeing this now that he will be a sire. He'll make a wonderful father."

Willow nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! I never knew how amazing he was with children. I suppose he never had cause to show me before, but picturing him cradling a tiny infant—now two—in his great, powerful arms fills me with such excitement. They'll seem so small compared to him, but he'll be so gentle. Seeing him stomp about and play with the children filled my heart. I think I'd be happy if these first two are sons. Then I can be sure there will be at least two more males in the world like Varhog, which will only mean good things for the future." She smiled blissfully at the thought, loving her husband all the more.

Myrin also smiled. "I didn't even know how Varhog was with children. Most Urgal rams are playful and kind, but Varhog was far more so than our eldest brother, Yarbog. I suppose I expected Varhog to be like Yarbog, but he surprised me. It warms my heart to hear you speak of him so, Willow. I never thought any mate he chose would be worthy of him, and I'm so glad I was mistaken. Couldn't you have a male and a female?"

Willow explained, "I can see the babies with my mind. Their energy at least. We learn this ability as Dragon Riders. When I first realized I was conceiving—it happened the morning after our wedding night—it was only one egg being fertilized. By the time it joined with my womb yesterday, it was two. They're in the same sac that will grow with them these next many months. So they're two divided from the initial one, which means they'll be the same sex, either two sons or two daughters."

Myrin seemed intrigued by this knowledge. "Do you think you could see with your mind what my baby is? Tarhvek and I desperately wish for another son, a brother for our young Tarhvek. But I suppose I'm so close to finding out as it is. No, don't try to discover. I want to be surprised. It's one of the most exciting things, knowing that the moment when you will finally learn whether you have a son or daughter is so close. After the baby's head is born, it often takes another minute or two for the rest of the body to follow. It wasn't that way with my third cub, but with my first two, that was the case. I suppose our bodies remember and stretch somewhat more easily with each subsequent birth.

"But after the baby's head is born, your womb is still swollen with the rest of its body and it's hard to see, though you can easily reach the baby. It's so miraculous, Willow, to be able to reach down and finally touch with your hands the one who has been so far and yet so intimately close all those months. It's also amazing if your mate is able to experience that, since he hasn't played the same central role in the growth of the baby after the moment of conception. To finally feel with his hands what he has so long anticipated is truly indescribable. Tarhvek holds those moments as some of his most cherished memories.

"I was astounded to learn that this precious moment of first handling your baby is often enjoyed by someone other than the mother or her mate among humans and that a woman is often flat on her back, unable to witness the miracle she's creating at that moment. That's unimaginable to me. No wonder her pain is so great. That's the worst position for a birth, since it forces the opening of the pelvis into its narrowest position. We Urgals give birth in an upright position, often standing or squatting, which opens the pelvis to its widest natural width. This makes the birth easier, but it also makes this moment possible. Tarhvek has always been behind me so I can rest against him and from there, he can easily see over my shoulder and also reach to hold our precious baby as it emerges from my body. We two have always been the first to hold our baby and see whether we've made a son or a daughter." She glowed with happiness that she would experience such a moment again so soon.

Tears came to Willow's eyes as she pictured this. It sounded so beautiful and perfect. "Thank you, Myrin. I'm so excited for that moment. You were telling me before about how the baby moves up the mother's body. What happens next?" She was hanging on Myrin's every word.

"Yes, the baby can move itself to its mother's breast. He follows the smell from his own hands as he grasps at her skin and also the smell of her milk, which is only present in small amounts at first, just right for how tiny his tummy is. He can't see well, but he can recognize contrasts in colors, which is why the mother's breasts have a dark spot around the nipple. It serves as a target for the baby, something he can recognize as a contrast to the rest of her skin color. He'll make his way there slowly, sometimes taking half an hour or more. She can help him as he gets closer. The birth is also hard work for the baby, who helps his mother's body open with his head and pushes with his feet. He must also endure this strong pressure over and over, as well as the extremely tight passage from her body. Babies are often deserving of the long sleep they enter after they find their mother's breast and enjoy their first meal.

"The baby will often do a perfectly good job on his own of taking his mother's breast into his mouth, creating a suction and a latch that should cause her no pain or irritation. An experienced mother will probably help her little one with positioning her breast, especially if it is large. It's like learning to dance with a new partner. You each learn a little at a time until it's effortless. Each of my cubs has been a little different, but we've all had enjoyable breastfeeding relationships. Young Tarhvek still nurses. It creates much stronger surges in my womb, which I've been encouraging these past weeks. Similar efforts from my mate, as well as joining our bodies, also produce powerful contractions." She laughed. "Tarhvek always finds the challenge of my ponderous belly a worthy and amusing undertaking. He has never yet been unsuccessful making love to me, though I might be ready to give birth within moments."

Willow was surprised. "Would you want such a thing right then? Would there be any risk to the baby?"

"In most cases, no," Myrin replied. "If the sac surrounding the baby has already ruptured, perhaps then it would be wise to abstain, so the male's fluid doesn't reach the baby, but before that there's usually no problem. It would be up to the mother, and many wouldn't desire it. Some rams might be reluctant as well. There are some benefits, however, for the willing couple. The contracting of the womb that naturally occurs during a woman's climactic release helps strengthen her womb and prepare it for the birth, but that would be more helpful in the weeks leading up to the birth. Since it can bring on and intensify the opening efforts of the womb, it can also be helpful during the actual labor. I love engaging in these types of behaviors during my labor, but since we'll have a large crowd at this birth, I suppose Tarhvek and I will have to resist." She looked disappointed. "Perhaps we'll just get our fill before anyone arrives."

Willow laughed. "Do you think Tarhvek would be uncomfortable if he knew you talked of such things with me?" she wondered.

Myrin also laughed. "Not at all. He would only hope I had done an admirable job of accurately portraying his manliness and how much pleasure it brings me. The only thing that brings a ram more pleasure than his own release is knowing that his mate is satisfied. And we women feel the same, desiring to ensure our rams get the love they need. This physical expression is as important to them as an emotional expression is to a female.

"Tarhvek and I share our love intimately most nights. It's a beautiful, selfless way of loving someone, Willow, and we're not ashamed to discuss it in our culture, though we strongly emphasize that such expressions must be saved for marriage, since they're also the way a new life is created. To create a new life without the bond of commitment and love that comes with a good match is considered disgraceful and unjust. The child deserves to have both a father and a mother who love one another and the child itself, and who are equally committed to caring for and raising it, which is the best way to ensure the child's health, happiness, and future success. Why would we give them anything less? And why would we share such love casually, with just anyone, when the pleasure is so much greater knowing that the one you are with is yours alone and is loyal to you unto death? I can't imagine any lustful expression ever bringing such contentment and satisfaction."

Willow nodded, realizing how true Myrin's words were. Knowing that she and Varhog had only shared this intimacy with one another was an indescribable feeling, one that deepened their bond of love and trust. Willow agreed that no lustful expression, no matter how pleasurable, could be better than experiencing the same enjoyment in the arms of her husband, who would always stay by her side, protecting her and their children unto the laying down of his own life, if necessary.

"I love your ways, Myrin," Willow declared. "They seem the best way, the right way. The only way that leads to true happiness and joy, as opposed to fleeting, empty pleasure. Do all Urgal rams have the ability Varhog does of making love again and again? When it first happened for us, we were both so surprised! Not to mention tired! It went on for hours before we forced ourselves to stop."

Myrin laughed indulgently. "Yes, Willow. All Urgralgra rams can do that. Though the release of fluid doesn't happen every time, only the sensation of it. To release semen each time wouldn't be possible. But while their bodies produce more, they're able to maintain their arousal. And you do need to be careful not to get too carried away. It has happened more than once that Tarhvek and I spent the whole night wrapped in each other's arms only to have the children awaken the next morning, expecting us to go about our day as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Those following nights were among the only few we didn't make love, since we simply had no energy." She paused as Willow laughed.

Myrin went on, "It's gratifying to be able to speak this openly with you, Willow. I have rarely interacted with humans. Firesword was the only human I saw before you all came here and that only briefly over ten years ago, when he came to propose the Games and the extension of the Dragon Rider pact. Little did I know how profoundly that would affect my life. I never expected to be friends with a human, let alone to have one as my sister, the mate of my favorite brother. But I sense you are no common human. I haven't experienced the same degree of openness from any of the others. Varhog told me I would need to come to know you for myself, that I wouldn't believe him otherwise, and I see he spoke truly."

When Myrin once again paused, Willow glanced around, noticing that the sun shone more brightly under the curtains. She looked back as Myrin asked, "How are you now feeling? I've been talking for nearly an hour! You must be hungry. The demands of growing those babies will be intense. You must always stay well-fed, hydrated, and rested. If you do, you'll feel healthier and happier at this time of your life than at any other." Myrin reached for the plate next to the bed and handed it to Willow, who sat up, crossed her legs, and put it in her lap. Myrin also refilled the cup with water and gave it to Willow.

Myrin then continued, "Having a life grow inside of you is the most miraculous experience. No discomfort is too great to bear during these final days of pregnancy if the mother has taken good care of herself through proper nutrition, exercise, and mental preparation. Though I _love_ the moment of finally meeting my baby, I also always mourn the end of the pregnancy somewhat, since it's such a blessed time. But I've never yet carried two. You'll grow more rapidly and be necessarily larger by the end. I know Varhog will do everything in his power to ensure your comfort and good health. I'm excited for you, Willow."

She fell silent as Willow busied herself with the task of eating. She truly was ravenous, but she nonetheless offered, "Would you like some of this? You must also be hungry, since your baby is so much larger by comparison."

Myrin helped herself, and they chatted of this and that. When the food was gone, Willow insisted that she needed to visit the washroom.

Myrin got up and offered to help her. Willow thought she would be fine until she also stood, then she swayed and almost sat back down on the bed. Myrin put her arm supportively around Willow's waist. "Why do I feel so weak and dizzy?" Willow wondered.

"You lost so much blood and this last week has been so trying," Myrin replied. "As you rest and eat, your body will quickly recover. To lose blood this early in pregnancy is not healthy or normal. After the birth, some blood loss is expected, but by then, your body has increased its supply during the entire course of the baby's development, so it isn't a drain on the mother. Some of the weight you gain will be just that—increased blood supply, which is yet another reason staying hydrated is so important. You'll also gain weight in your breasts as they prepare to feed you babies—"

She stopped as Willow smiled and murmured, "Varhog will probably like that."

Myrin followed Willow's tangent a moment. "Yes, I'm sure he will. Tarhvek always has. Already full breasts become that much fuller when they begin to produce milk. A smaller chested woman might also appreciate the growth, though her smaller initial size has nothing to do with how much milk she can make. Her breasts are also perfectly capable of exclusively feeding her baby with her own milk." She paused as she regarded Willow in her dress. "How did Varhog like your dress and the removal of it? It seemed clear enough from what I saw, but that was only his first reaction."

Willow giggled. "I think it's safe to say that he enjoyed both—particularly the latter—immensely. He confessed that he never knew my breasts were so full, since I always wore the leather coat and pants you saw me in when we met. I always thought I'd undress from them for our first time, which never seemed to be a problem until I was wearing this and felt so sensual and feminine. Varhog admitted it made him a little crazy."

"That is as it should be, Willow. The males are so free and adventurous. For them to want to take a mate and start a family, the draw has to be powerful indeed. Our bodies are one such a pull, and the joining of his own with it is the other major incentive. Few males can resist the beauty of a healthy female body, as deeply ingrained as it is. That attraction is what draws him to her and makes him want to do his part in continuing his race. This is another reason intimate expressions must be reserved for marriage. If a male could simply receive his gratification with any female who would join herself with him, what would be the motivation for him to remain loyal to her and their family? That he gets to enjoy that privilege exclusively in marriage is usually enough to keep him committed, since it's such a powerful experience. And it becomes us as females to care for ourselves and our bodies so they will always have the same effect on our mates. A good mate will never expect perfection. He understands the demands of pregnancy and the changes it creates in our bodies, but he'll always appreciate if his woman cares for herself and him enough to keep herself healthy through proper nutrition and moderate exercise. I was surprised to learn that some humans use pregnancy as an excuse to let themselves go by not attending to their own health as they ought to, allowing the normal weight gain to become excessive and unhealthy."

Myrin then returned to her original train of thought before the tangent. "In addition to your blood and breasts, you'll also gain weight through increased fluids, because of the babies themselves, and also due to the growth of the organ that supports their development, which Arya referred to as the placenta. As I said, we Urgralgra call it the tree of life since it looks like a tree—as you'll see when mine is born—with many blood vessels that all flow like branches toward the cord that runs between the mother's and baby's bodies. There will also be an increase in your body fat, but only to support the production of mother's milk in the early days. You will find that those days are some of the most intense, demanding days of motherhood, since you'll get so little sleep and your babies' needs will be so insistent and constant. With two, it will be all the more work. I will ensure that Varhog understands the absolute necessity of his participation in every aspect of childcare he can assist with, which is nearly everything aside from the feeding, which only your body can do best.

"If you're here when your babies are born, the work would be somewhat easier since all of the females in the family will share in it. Arya and Lady Nightstalker informed me that in some human cities, women don't receive the help they need without the nearness of family. Our culture is very family-oriented and it's particularly valuable when a woman has a new baby."

Willow agreed, "I would be perfectly content to remain with the Urgralgra for the rest of my life, which will be long indeed, thanks to my bond with a dragon. I love your culture, Myrin. It's appalling to me that so many misunderstand it to such an extent."

Myrin said, "Yes, marriage, family, and home are the center of our whole culture. That others see us as a violent, bloodthirsty race is not surprising, however, because they're only familiar with the deeds of our rams, who seek out conflict to prove their worth. This they do not for the simple glory in bloodshed and brutality, as is commonly assumed, though Tarhvek assures me that the thrill of battle is unlike anything else, rivaling even the thrill of being with me. They do it to prove that they're capable of protecting their future mate and family, should danger ever threaten them.

"Thankfully, the Games Firesword started have given them the opportunity to prove their worth and gain a place in our society without resorting to bloodshed and murder, which is slowly helping to change ancient views. Having humans interact with the women and children in our village will help to dispel those mistaken views more quickly, I would imagine, since it's so clear where our values truly lie. When the rams aren't off sparring, hunting, or tending fields, they're kind and attentive sires and mates. They assist in the mundane tasks of day-to-day life like washing, cleaning, cooking, and playing with the children, which is obviously their favorite. And the children's too. No one understands play like a father, and he's willing to get down and wrestle in the dirt. It's a lovely way of life, Willow. I've only learned of human ways this last week, but I'm sure I prefer our culture. Will you not be here for your birth?"

"I'm not sure," Willow said. "Eventually we Riders must return to the Isle, but I hope we can often return here to be with our family and so I can learn more about how to be a good wife and mother. I want Arya to be present, but if we can all be here together, that would be my ideal scenario. It's still many months away." She thought of a question. "What do you do with this tree of life, the placenta, after it's born?"

Myrin smiled. "We have an interesting practice with regards to that, though it's as natural to me as everything else we do, since I've grown up with it. But in this instance, even Arya was surprised. Most women actually choose to consume the organ, as do all mammals after the birth of their young, even those that do not typically eat flesh as their main diet. This practice is not an effort to protect their young from predators, as is commonly assumed, for even predatory animals such as bears and wolves consume the afterbirth, but rather because nothing can replenish the mother's body after its intense effort of creating a new life like consuming the tree of life. It's full of nutrients and other necessary elements that allow her swift recovery. Consuming the organ ends the post-birth bleeding in a matter of days, as opposed to weeks, brings the mother's breastmilk in quickly and abundantly, and helps her find greater balance and happiness.

"Others choose to bury the organ and plant a seed above it, which is symbolic of continuing the circle of life, but when a mother has done that and then after subsequent births eats it, she always realizes just how amazingly beneficial it is to her body and often chooses to consume the tree of life after every future pregnancy."

"That's so interesting!" Willow exclaimed. "And how does one eat it?"

"There are several methods," Myrin answered. "Many will eat some of it at the time of birth. It's a very instinctive thing to do, and the organ is completely fresh and warm, though still raw. You simply pinch off the amount you desire and put it in your mouth, as with any other food. But since it is a fair-sized organ, many mothers prefer to have it made into a stew she can consume for several days or dehydrated to last for several weeks. In either case, the placenta continues to provide all the benefits with each portions she eats.

"I was shocked to learn that most human or dwarven women discard the organ like waste and bleed from their wombs for several weeks, if not a couple months, following the birth of their babies. How awful! What a drain that would be during the most intensive and demanding time of her life, not to mention the extra work of having to clean herself and deal with that inconvenience. Since the time of my marriage, I haven't experienced a menstrual flow in almost seven years. Between pregnancy and constant nursing, my womb has remained still, only becoming active in time for us to conceive again, with no blood flow in between. It's marvelous, Willow."

"It _sounds_ marvelous! How is that possible?" Willow wondered. "The lack of a monthly flow, that is?"

"It's one of nature's great wisdoms. Our bodies are designed to be infertile when the demands of a nursing baby—or even a nursing baby and a nursing toddler together—are great enough. If the body feels that the demands required to feed the baby or babies at the mother's breast would interfere with the growth of a new baby in her womb, it simply doesn't produce fertile eggs during that time and there is no need to prepare the womb for pregnancy, which effectively eliminates the monthly menstrual flow. Because of the way we nurse in our culture, the average time that passes before the return of fertility is nearly two years after the birth of the most recent baby. So our bodies aren't even capable of becoming pregnant until the demands of the nurslings decrease enough. Only then will the womb resume the cycle of fertility, since the mother's resources would not be depleted if a new baby began to develop in her womb. Does that make sense?"

"Yes!" Willow exclaimed. "The body is able to regulate the activities of the womb to take into account the other demands placed on the woman's body when her breasts are making milk for the little ones. How exquisite! I love the idea of not having a menstrual flow for the next many years!"

"You grasped it exactly, Willow," Myrin approved. "That's one great gift of following nature's course when it comes to pregnancy, birth, and breastfeeding. Our bodies are never placed under undue strain, and we're able to enjoy this most beautiful time of our lives, even the childbearing years, with good health and vitality. Mother went nearly twenty years without a menstrual flow and after that span of time, the body is naturally entering the less fertile phase that accompanies older age. It's much healthier for a woman's reproductive organs to have such long phases of rest between pregnancies.

"However, that extended window of infertility would not be expected if the demands of the baby on the mother's breasts were insufficient. Our young nurse whenever they wish, day and night. We have no sleep or feeding schedules, as the other two females you travel with have informed me sometimes occur in the other races. There are no artificial substitutes for the mother's breast. How ridiculous would it be to shove a piece of some harmful material into the baby's mouth just to quiet it when what it really needs and wants is its mother's breast? There the baby not only gets the perfect nutrition it needs, but also warmth, love, and protection. There's no adequate substitute for the perfection nature designed, even the mother's breasts. They truly are the source of all a newborn needs for its survival and happiness in the first months of life. When that bond develops without interference, the child is able to move forward into other relationships with the security and assurance that it will always have its mother's love."

"How lovely," Willow happily declared. "Is there more than this you could share with me?"

Myrin laughed and just at that moment, Arya walked into the hut by herself. The other two women had settled on the sofa after Willow used the washroom.

Willow smiled delightedly. "Myrin has been sharing the most fascinating things with me!" she gushed. "It makes me more excited than ever to experience motherhood. It's amazing that nature has provided all the answers and solutions to make the job as enjoyable and simple as possible!"

Arya smiled in turn. "Yes, Willow, it's true. You are one of the fortunate few humans to be learning of these things. They truly do make the whole daunting role of a new mother so much less stressful and more fulfilling. How are you feeling? It is now past midday."

"Is it already that time?" Willow exclaimed. "It passed so quickly! I suppose I slept most of it and have been otherwise completely engrossed in Myrin's lessons. To answer you, I feel so much better than last night. I can already feel changes in my body that indicate my reaction to Varhog is being erased and replaced. Before, just thinking about him being near was enough to bring on any number of unpleasant symptoms. But now I'm desperate to be with him again just as soon as I can. I was wondering how you'll ascertain if I need to be treated for an allergy to his semen and how that will work?"

"Can you be patient for that explanation until Varhog has rejoined us?" Arya requested. "He'll also appreciate knowing and then I'll only need to share the details once. I find myself weary of all this talking and explaining."

"Of course, sister!" Willow remorsefully agreed. "I hadn't even thought of that. You have done so much for us, it's the least I can do. I think I'd like to go out and rejoin the others, if they don't mind. But I'd prefer to wear something other than this dress. Not only is it inappropriately revealing for the occasion, it's also special, something I want to keep between me and Varhog as much as possible, as long as it still fits, that is. Do you have something that would work for me?"

"I do," Arya answered. "We're the same height and nearly the same build, though my pants might feel tight through your hips. Come, let's get you changed and go meet your family. They're most anxious to see you."

-:-:-:-


	32. Bittersweet

**32\. Bittersweet**

Murtagh and Nasuada left Myrintuk's hut hand in hand. They had remained while Arya answered all of the _many_ questions, some of which they had asked themselves. When Arya left, weary of the endless barrage, the couple followed her.

They were silent for some time, wandering among the huts and into the trees surrounding the village, each mulling over the events they had just been informed of.

Nasuada was the first to speak. "That was, ah, interesting, to say the least. How awful to have to endure such things just after coming together. I always thought what we went through was bad enough."

"It was, my dear," Murtagh said. "I did unspeakable things to you. That you don't hate me is a great miracle. It's extraordinary what forgiveness can do."

"Yes, but Willow _did_ forgive him and this strange situation still followed."

"True. It's interesting to consider the capabilities of the brain and how—ingenious as it is—it can still mistakenly draw such a conclusion and create such a reaction. I'm glad it wasn't our trial. They're strong to have weathered it as they did. And now with a happy result to anticipate." Murtagh looked at her with a twinkle in his eye, which Nasuada noticed.

"Yes," she said, wondering why he was giving her that look. " _Two_ babies. What a delightful prospect."

"Would you like to hear something exciting?" Murtagh asked, clearly attempting to be casual, though he couldn't completely contain his feelings.

"But of course, Murtagh," Nasuada said in confusion.

"I've debated whether to share this with you before you could discover it on your own," Murtagh began, "since it might seem unfair to you that I can observe it with my abilities as a Dragon Rider. But I can no longer wait, so you may have to forgive me yet again. You are with child, Nasuada. You too will be a mother."

Nasuada stared at him with wide eyes for a moment before throwing her arms around him. "Is it truly so?" she breathed, pulling back to look up at him. "You must have seen it with your mind, like the others have." He nodded. "Well, how long have I been?" she demanded. "Is it just one?"

"Yes, just one, and it happened not long after our wedding. But you'll have to consult with Arya for the exact understanding, since I do not possess that knowledge. Are you happy, my dear?"

"Happy?" Nasuada cried. She hugged him again, pulled back to kiss him, and then resumed her embrace. "Yes, Murtagh. I'm overjoyed! I've wanted to be a mother for a long time and wondered if I would ever have the opportunity as high queen. I have considered many times whether a political union might not be necessary for the kingdom, but to have the blessing of being with the man I love and now of being able to be the mother of his children is more than I ever hoped. Thank you for sharing this with me now and for giving me this gift." She fell silent and kept her face pressed into his neck, trembling slightly in her effort to control her emotions.

-:-:-

Murtagh also felt emotional. He stroked her long, amazing hair with one hand, holding her tightly with his other arm. How did he have such a blessing in his life? For so long he had been consumed by rage, bitterness, and hate, which had been a canker to his soul, darkening him and creating a terrible desire for vengeance and violence. To have Nasuada was more than he would ever feel worthy of, especially after all he had done to her. To make her a mother and become a father himself was overwhelming.

Murtagh felt a certain dread at the prospect, since his own father had been so awful. He hoped hostile tendencies in fathers could not be inherited. But he decided he wouldn't despair. If there was one thing he was irrevocably learning, it was the power of love and forgiveness to overcome anything. Tornac had been more a father to him than Morzan, and he owed his foster father for the man he was today.

Murtagh made a resolve right then to be like Tornac was as a father and to put all thoughts of Morzan from his mind. His choices determined the man he was, not his inheritance. And he would always be the husband Nasuada deserved and the father their children deserved. He whispered to her, "Thank you, Nasuada, for the great gift _you_ have given _me,_ even yourself and this future with you."

He kissed the top of her head then her lips when she raised her face to him, smiling affectionately as he drew back. But before she could see the look of pain that filled his eyes, he pressed her face into his chest and resumed stroking her hair. His joy was bittersweet, and the fullness in his eyes increased until tears rolled down his face as he remembered yet again—like he did at least once every day—that he would one day lose Nasuada. Sooner than it would seem possible, she and their children would pass away and leave him to endure endless centuries as a lonely Rider, with only his memories of them to keep him company.

-:-:-

After a few moments, Nasuada began to feel the wetness of his tears on her hair. She pulled back and looked up at him, placing a hand on his cheek in a gesture of comfort. He smiled at her sadly. "These do not look like tears of happiness, Murtagh."

Murtagh shook his head. "No, but I don't want to ruin the joy of this moment by dwelling on the oft-visited topic of your mortality."

Nasuada understood. It wasn't that she necessarily regretted being mortal, she simply knew her death would be a terrible devastation to Murtagh, since he would have to remain behind without her. She would feel the same, were their roles reversed. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "We'll make our time together the happiest anyone could ever imagine," she said, which were words she repeated in some form on a regular basis. "You'll never reflect back with regret."

"No," he solemnly agreed. "Never that. I only regret that I'll lose you and that I already lost so much time with you in my stubborn delay of our marriage. I'll never regret my life with you, Nasuada. I only wish it didn't have to end like it will. If there were only a way to make us the same, either I mortal or you immortal."

Nasuada nodded. An eternity with him wouldn't be so bad, though it otherwise held no interest for her. "If there is, we'll discover it," she said firmly with her characteristic courage and determination. He kissed her forehead.

She then changed topics. "What shall we do after Myrin's baby is born? I had thought we would return to Ilirea for a time, though I know you wish to meet Roran. I feel I'll soon be needed. But perhaps Carvahall is where I would be most useful right now, since the Urgal uprisings are one of my top concerns."

"I would be happy to do anything you wish, Nasuada. We can return to Ilirea or briefly visit Carvahall. I'm not the high queen, and I would never pretend to have your wisdom and understanding of what it takes to rule a country. I do want to meet my cousin but not as much as I want your happiness and peace of mind."

Nasuada smiled. "Then perhaps a brief visit to Carvahall is in order. I worry that so many dragons will be so close to Anghelm, but I feel like Eragon. It's hard to imagine that one Urgal—no matter how tall and strong—would be able to overcome five powerful Dragon Riders _and_ their dragons."

Murtagh nodded. "Now that we know what to expect as far as Willow and Varhog are concerned, I suppose we need only wait until the baby is born."

"Yes, and the women have been saying that Myrin will give birth any time now, since the signs that her labor is imminent have been increasing every hour."

"What you said a moment ago about feeling like you'll soon be needed back in Ilirea reminded me of something," Murtagh said, changing the subject again.

Nasuada asked, "And what is that?"

"In years past," Murtagh began, "you occasionally expressed concern that if we were ever to enter into a more serious relationship, it might create some negative political repercussions, given my unfortunate association with Galbatorix during the war. Though we've only been married just under two weeks, and many parts of the kingdom might not have even received the news, I was wondering if you have had any inkling that we might face some opposition in that regard."

Nasuada considered his words thoughtfully then replied, "There's always a chance, but I do not think we have much to fear. You must remember, Murtagh, that you have been one of the most visible Riders in Alagaёsia this past decade. Eragon never returned before now, and as much good as he did during the war, he became something of a legend when he disappeared so soon after. People often wondered how much of it was actually real, especially since they never saw him again. But you were here every year, starting with the Human Choosing Ceremony where Willow became a Rider. And though you did some terrible things as Galbatorix's pawn, and people have a tendency to remember the negative longer than the positive, all they have seen you doing for years since then is good. Your days of infamy," she smiled playfully, "were so short-lived in comparison."

"That's heartening," Murtagh commented.

Nasuada nodded. "Indeed. My most significant concern had to do with how the dwarves felt toward you, thought that technically shouldn't have mattered since they have a sovereign ruler. But when you miraculously made peace even with them, and only ten years later, it effectively solved that dilemma."

"Yet another instance where forgiveness has been responsible for a completely unexpected outcome," Murtagh seriously observed.

"Another thing to keep in mind," Nasuada continued, "is that ever since that same year you came to oversee the first Human Choosing Ceremony, I have made every effort to publicize the truth of your involvement with Galbatorix. Very few people knew that you were in his service under coercion, especially since your father was Morzan. Most people assumed you had simply followed in your father's footsteps."

Murtagh's face tightened. "Which is exactly what Galbatorix wanted people to believe," he remarked bitterly. "Everything, all the way down to my red dragon, seemed to suggest that natural progression." He exhaled sourly then took a deep breath to get his anger under control, turning to look at Nasuada with a grateful smile. "Thank you for contending that mistaken perception, my dear. You knew better than anyone how much I hated what Galbatorix forced me to do. And you are the reason I was able to defy him at the last moment. Coming to love you more than my own good-for-nothing self fundamentally changed me enough to destroy his hold on me."

"So you have told me," Nasuada murmured, smiling faintly. "I'm glad I could help." She paused before adding, "As leader of the Varden, I was responsible for the deaths of many more people during the war than you were, Murtagh. You and Thorn were to blame for some loss of life, but your most memorable feats were of intimidation and destruction, since your main job was to thwart Eragon and Saphira without ever harming them. And in spite of that regrettable role as a military leader, the people have still come to accept me as their queen. I feel quite confident they will likewise accept you as the prince."

"I certainly hope so," Murtagh said. "I would hate to make your already difficult political responsibilities that much more demanding—though you've always loved a challenge."

"Yes. And I welcome whatever challenges might arise from our marriage, Murtagh. I want to be with you. Sometimes we monarch types forget or ignore our personal desires in our duty to serve our people. Arya would likely agree, but I can't see how a happier queen will make anything worse."

Murtagh's good humor resurfaced, and he grinned roguishly. "We were awakened quite early this morning. Shall we return and resume our . . . rest?" He surprised her by sweeping her into his arms and walking with her in the direction of their hut.

Nasuada smiled in return and airily said, "No, my dear. I do not want to rest but celebrate. We're still on our honeymoon, after all, and no other human couple can say they have honeymooned in an Urgal village, where all night one can hear passionate sounds of lovemaking all around them." She laughed lightly as he once again assumed a slightly scandalized expression, though she knew he did it mainly for her gratification. "It makes me feel rather uninhibited myself, knowing I'll never be physically capable of producing such deep and terrifying noises as we have observed."

"For which I'll always be eternally grateful, dear," Murtagh dryly stated, "both at the lack of inhibition and that you can't make sounds such as those." Nasuada nodded her agreement, planting a firm kiss on his lips. Murtagh reciprocated, and she pulled back with a sly grin before he could repeat the gesture.

Since they were still a short distance from their hut, she said, "And _I_ will always be eternally grateful we honeymooned here for a different reason." Murtagh raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Now you know how to properly pleasure your wife, which has made things all the more interesting."

Murtagh laughed. "I too am grateful for that knowledge. And in spite of your concerns to the contrary, you actually _have_ come quite close to producing some of the noises we have overheard. I'm proud of you, Your Majesty."

"Why thank you, Your Highness."

"Your Highness," Murtagh thoughtfully repeated, his expression of exaggerated innocence revealing his jest. "I quite like the sound of it. Too bad I won't get my way because of my title."

Nasuada shook her head apologetically, and Murtagh laughed. He reached their hut and entered, not having to duck as he did through so many other doorways since it was tall enough for an Urgal. They ate then retired to their bedroom, but not for the purposes of retiring. As Nasuada had suggested, they celebrated their happiness that they would be parents by sharing their love in the very way that had created the new life in the first place.

-:-:-:-


	33. Legend

**33\. Legend**

This day of such eventful news and happenings for all the others passed as dully as the rest for Angela. She enjoyed the Urgals, as she had come to know them in her many centuries and was more familiar with their ways than any of the humans or Riders with whom she travelled. But she was bored because she was not gaining anything toward accomplishing her purpose on this journey. That the Shadeslayers seemed so unconcerned by the approaching birth of their child was insufferable. They felt no urgency that a terrible thing might befall them at that time.

 _The time is yet far off,_ Solembum apathetically observed, licking his paws and swiping them over his tufted ears, which twitched after each wipe.

 _Yes, but still!_ Angela fussed, huffing impatiently as she missed a stitch in the sweater she was feverishly knitting. _These winters in the Spine are unbearable,_ she complained. _What are we doing up here, Solembum? We_ must _learn something to help Arya and Eragon, but I doubt we'll find any such knowledge in the Spine. We have searched here for countless decades, the same as everywhere else._

 _Perhaps we'll learn something yet,_ Solembum replied in the strange way he sometimes did.

 _Werecats!_ Angela thought in indulgent exasperation. Then, unable to repress her curiosity, she added, _Why do you say that, Solembum?_

 _Maybe something is blowing on the wind,_ he replied sardonically in a way that left her no more enlightened, even as a cool breeze blew over her. _You should just finish it with magic,_ he observed of her project.

 _Nonsense! And deny myself the pleasure of doing something with my hands? I've lived too long to rely on shortcuts like that, you ninny. So you'll really give me no more hint than that? You're as bad as Elva!_

Solembum hissed in an unthreatening way—his approximation of a laugh. _Perhaps the witch child is the very reason the Shadeslayers are unconcerned,_ he suggested in response to feeling her frustration of earlier. _Because of her odd prophesy._

 _But what could_ she _possibly know?_ Angela demanded, decisively stuffing her yarn and needles into her pouch. _Come, night is upon us and I must return to our hut and retrieve a sweater that is already finished. Then I want to visit the village square and hear more stories. Perhaps one may help us yet. We may not have asked the right question to learn the knowledge we seek._

Solembum made no reply, obviously seeing no reason to go to the effort, and rose, stretching his slender feline body in a graceful arch from head to tail. He sauntered off in the direction of the hut without waiting or turning to see if she followed. But Angela knew he heard her as she bustled after him, the same indulgent exasperation now audible on her lips.

After taking care of the side trip, the two made their way to the village square, where the Urgals gathered most nights to share stories and histories, teaching the young ones the things they must know and value.

Nar Garzhvog was there with his cubs, the youngest of whom was now twelve. Though the war chief was a middle-aged ram, he had fewer children than most his age since his mate had been killed by Galbatorix. Angela knew that Urgals rarely took new mates if their first passed on.

Eragon and Arya, Murtagh and Nasuada, and Willow—along with her new family, save her husband—were also all present. A huge bonfire crackled in the center of the gathering.

"Come to share more stories, Mooneater?" Garzhvog boomed.

"Not tonight, young man," Angela said to the enormous Kull, who was nearly twice her height. "I've come to _hear_ more stories."

"Very well. We're ready to begin now. What do you want to know?"

"Hmmm," Angela mused, trying to come up with a question to get the story she sought, if one truly did exist. "Tell me, Nar Garzhvog, why do the Urgralgra appear as they do? As part man and part beast? Do you have any legends of this?"

"That's a good question, Mooneater, and it leads to an even better story. We do have such a legend, and I'll tell it to you now. It is the legend of Rahna, She of the Gilded Horns, the mother of our race.

"The legend begins like this: Millennia ago, Rahna was much like a human—tall and beautiful, with shining golden hair. She lived in the mountains with the people of her village in a land across the sea, far from Alagaёsia, for this was long before the Urgralgra came to dwell here. She was often content to be on her own, wandering through the forest where she could interact with the animals. One day she happened upon a clearing, and there she discovered a noble beast, an animal she had never before beheld in all her explorations.

"The animal was strong and powerful, with a wide chest and impressive curling horns. He, for it was clearly a male, beheld Rahna with intelligent yellow eyes as she entered his meadow, noticing her golden hair, which shone like the sun. She approached the beast with no fear, though he was huge and could have easily killed her had that been his intent. But it wasn't, and he allowed her to look at him and stroke his rough hide. Rahna saw the wisdom in his eyes and wondered what it meant but could not guess.

"She left the meadow as the day waned but returned the following day and each day after, mesmerized by the strength and intelligence of this new creature. One day Rahna was ill and could not return to the clearing. That night, a strange man appeared in her village, asking about a tall woman with shining hair. He was directed to Rahna and seemed concerned by her condition. She did not know this man, but he was tall and strong, and something about his eyes seemed vaguely familiar. Their dark color shone in an odd way.

"Rahna was ill for some time, and the man returned to visit her each night, concerned for her well-being. She was touched by the gesture of the stranger and came to anticipate his visit as much as she had her own visits to the clearing. This was her first clue.

"When she was well again, Rahna returned to the meadow of the noble creature. They remained in companionable silence until the day drew to a close. Then she returned to her village and, after night fell, the man showed up at her hut. So the pattern continued—Rahna visited the beast during the day, and the man came calling at night.

"Rahna and the man fell in love, and since her people had no custom of marriage, as their relationship deepened, they soon shared their love in a physical way. She fell asleep in his arms, content and happy. But when morning dawned, she was heartbroken to find that the man had abandoned her, leaving her alone in her bed.

"Rahna ran to the clearing in despair, hoping to find comfort from the steady presence of her longtime friend. She thought his eyes looked regretful, and she suddenly had a terrible suspicion. That night when the man returned again, he was sorrowful he had abandoned her and wished to explain why, but was unable to because he did not know how.

"They spent another night together, but this time Rahna made herself stay awake. As the hours of the night drew to a close, the man awoke and silently left Rahna's side, thinking she was asleep. She waited for him to leave then followed him just as silently. He led her to the clearing and, as dawn broke, he lay down naked in the center. When the sun's rays shone upon his body, it transformed into the noble horned beast. Rahna then understood. Her friend the beast was her lover the man.

"This discovery did nothing to thwart the love of the shining-haired Rahna and her mate, as pure and deep as it was. From then on, they spent all of their time together, whether in his meadow or at her home.

"And so it came to be that in time, Rahna found herself with child. This was joyful news, and Rahna and her mate anticipated the time when their baby would be born. When it arrived, Rahna gave birth to twins—a male and a female—who appeared to be a combination of herself and their sire. They had the build of a human—meant for standing upright on two legs—but the gray hide and yellow eyes of their father, when in his animal form. As the children grew, it eventually became apparent that they too would grow the impressive horns of their sire, and Rahna was glad. She loved her ram and she loved her children.

"After many happy years, the couple began to grow old, but Rahna unexpectedly conceived another child. When the time for the birth came, the baby was born still. Rahna's heart was broken, and as she sorrowed over the lifeless child, an amazing thing happened. The couple—her loyal ram was by her side, as always—was visited by a heavenly being.

"They were astonished when the personage told them that they were revered in the heavens for their pure love, one that had allowed them to overcome the differences between themselves and conceive a child. As a reward for their love and also as consolation that they had not been able to enjoy this new baby, the being told them they would each be granted a blessing—a wish, as it were—to receive anything they desired. Such an honor is rarely extended since most would abuse the privilege.

"But with pure hearts and pure love, the couple desired only two things. Rahna desired that her children, the male and female, would become the parents of a mighty race, one that would always provide evidence of the devoted love of their parents. Her ram desired that he and his beloved Rahna would become even as their children, able to be together in a compatible form day and night, for all of eternity.

"Their wishes were granted, and Rahna was transformed into our Holy Mother, She of the Gilded Horns, which were as golden and bright as her hair. Her faithful ram was changed into a noble Urgal ram, and they were then alike both day and night and taken into the heavens, where they exist even now, loyal mates for all of eternity. And their children remained and became—as Rahna desired—the parents of a noble race, even the Urgralgra. And, so the legend goes, that is how we came to be both man and beast," Garzhvog concluded.

Everyone had listened in captivated fascination, but two seemed particularly affected by the account—Willow and Murtagh. Angela supposed that Willow, who had tears streaming down her face, could relate to Rahna—as Willow had also fallen in love with a noble ram. But Angela couldn't guess why Murtagh also looked emotional, though he maintained more composure than Willow.

Angela was likewise engrossed by the story, and she said to Eragon and Arya, "Here we have finally heard something to give us a clue, Shadeslayers. I think I now see why Elva spoke as she did. Perhaps we truly have nothing to fear. Love as pure as this—like yours and my parents'—can lead to no evil, only good and happiness." But in spite of the knowledge—the first that had given her any understanding of what might have happened at the time of her birth—Angela remained troubled, for it still did not explain why, if her parent's love had only led to great happiness, _she_ had been abandoned and left behind.

-:-:-:-


	34. Return

**34\. Return**

When everyone returned from hearing stories in the village square, Willow tried to sleep. She was successful at first, but she awakened as her mind continued to anticipate Varhog's return. She was now pacing the floor in the front room of Eragon and Arya's hut, expecting Varhog to search for her there. Eragon and Arya were in their bedroom, sleeping, Willow supposed, unless they were very quietly doing something else. She went to the window and peered out again.

All she could see was blackness. The stars and moon were veiled by the thick clouds rolling in to threaten of the first winter storm. Willow sighed. Varhog could come back after three in the morning. She didn't know exactly what time it was, but she knew it was past midnight. Did she really have several more hours to wait?

Willow returned to her temporary bed on the sofa, lying down with the intention of trying to sleep again. But before she had even finished shifting to get comfortable, she sprang back up and began pacing again, taking her path into the kitchen as well. To distract herself, she thought of the beautiful legend Nar Garzhvog had shared that night in the village square. Willow wondered how much of it had actually transpired and how much was just a legend. Whether it was true or not, the story contained several uncanny similarities to her relationship with Varhog.

Willow made a noise of frustration at the thought of Varhog and that she had to keep waiting to see him again. But as time passed, she paid close attention to herself to see if she could identify the strange shift that had possessed her each of the six previous nights. Nothing happened. _Maybe I really am cured_ , she hopefully thought. Then she felt with her mind toward her womb, where the babies were nestled close together in the rich lining, safe now that the threat of being thrust from their nesting place had passed.

Willow realized she was hungry since she had been awake so many hours, so she ate some of the leftover stew Arya had made for dinner, which was hearty and delicious—full of beans, grains, and vegetables. She wondered if she would be able to do as the Urgals and consume the tree of life, the organ born after her babies. She hadn't eaten animal flesh in over six years, and she never missed it, so the thought of copying the unusual practice, at least in her mind, made her slightly apprehensive.

But Myrin had assured her that this was completely different, for the organ was not obtained by taking a life but by creating one. In consuming it, a woman obtained greater health and vitality and brought harm to none. Willow supposed she would at least try it since it did, in truth, seem a logical thing to do. After all, most other mammals did, even those that only ate plants.

Willow stopped at the window again. Knowing she would never be able to remain calm and still in the hut, she grabbed the blanket off the sofa and wrapped it around her shoulders. Then she let herself out through the door and stood in the front yard of the hut, staring blindly into the night. She knew Varhog would be able to see her with his yellow eyes, so she waited still as a statue, despite the desire of her body to shiver with cold.

Willow was somehow able to clear her mind, though she didn't meditate and expand her awareness to the abundance of life around her. She simply thought about the blackness before her eyes and tried to fill her mind with the same color. Through this effort, Willow entered a trance of sorts—aware and unaware of everything around her—and was finally able to wait patiently for Varhog's return.

-:-:-

After many long hours of flying on Black Thunder, Varhog was finally able to forgive himself. As his dragon predicted, Varhog then felt peaceful and was anxious to be reunited with Willow. They did not near his village until well after nightfall, but Varhog didn't want to arrive too early and risk interfering with Willow's treatment, so he asked Black Thunder to land several miles away so he could walk the rest of the way home. The night was still and calm in anticipation of the coming storm, which added to Varhog's internal harmony.

When he arrived at Eragon and Arya's, Sunset was curled up behind the hut. Varhog communicated with Willow's dragon and learned that Willow was awake inside, restless as she awaited his return.

Varhog knew one o'clock had passed, for his body was acutely attuned to the time Willow's terrible transformation began each of the previous nights. He waited until he knew the two hour window was nearly over before heading around toward the entrance of the hut, pausing as he heard the door open and close.

From his vantage point beside the house, Varhog watched Willow walk out into the yard with a blanket wrapped tightly around her body. He knew she wasn't using her mind to study her environment, nor did he use his, for he didn't want to alert her to his presence. Willow held very still, and Varhog guessed she was cold. Knowing he could now help her, Varhog silently approached.

Varhog stopped directly behind Willow. She seemed not to be aware of him, and he slowly reached out his hand, still worried he might hurt her. But at his touch, Willow melted from her stony posture, spun, and threw her arms around him. "Varhog," she breathed.

"Willow. I have come back to you."

Willow said nothing more, though he could sense her smile and feel her tears on his chest through the laces of his shirt. Varhog held her tightly, having missed feeling her so much that he could barely breathe. And not just the last day, but all the days before, when he had been with her but necessarily remained so distant. It was the first time in over seven years that Varhog had gone so long without even speaking to Willow as a friend, and it had been torturous.

"How are you, Eartheyes?" Varhog tenderly asked. "And the babies? Are they safe?"

Willow sobbed softly as she drew her head back, but the tears were of joy. "I missed you so much, sweetheart. Not just yesterday, but all the days I couldn't even hug you," she said, echoing his thoughts. "I'm well. Remarkably improved. I feel no pain in your arms, only joy and warmth. Your voice is healing my broken heart as only it can. The babies? They're wonderful. They're safe." She stretched up to kiss him at the same moment he bent down to do the same. And it was as it had been before, not burning and insistent but affectionate and comforting. He gently wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, but more followed. She smiled through them. "I love you, Varhog. Thank you for coming back to me."

"I pray I need never leave you again, Willow. At Black Thunder's insistence, I have finally been able to find forgiveness from myself for what I did to you, and I'm ready to move forward now." Seeing that she was tired, he added, "Let me hold you tonight and keep you warm."

Willow nodded gratefully, so he swept her up and carried her into the hut, where he reclined on the couch with Willow in his arms. She snuggled into him, promptly falling asleep, and Varhog immediately followed.


	35. Birth

**35\. Birth**

They startled awake a few hours later, just before dawn, when Varhog's youngest sister Breetuk ducked through the door. As a Kull, she had to stoop even lower than Varhog, and she was breathless as if she had been running. "Myrin's having her baby right now!" she panted. "If you want to see it, you must come!" She turned, exiting the same way she had entered.

Varhog stood, still holding Willow. "We should tell Eragon and Arya," she sleepily muttered, so he walked with her back to the bedroom, exactly as he had two nights before, though this time he was so much less tense. He gently rapped on the door, pushing it open slightly.

"Firesword," Varhog said, loudly enough to get Firesword's attention. Arya was curled next to his side, the blankets pulled up over her shoulders and her husband's arms around her.

Firesword blinked his eyes open. "You have returned," he stated in a clear voice, and Varhog remembered that his sleep was lighter, like that of the elves.

"Yes," Varhog answered, "and Myrin's baby is being born. If we wish to be present, we must make our way there at once." He retreated down the hallway to give the two in the bedroom a chance to arise and waited in the front room with his face pressed to Willow's hair, breathing deeply to smell her. She had dozed off again, still nestled so warmly in his arms.

A few minutes later, Firesword and Arya emerged hand in hand. "Lead the way, Varhog. We can keep up."

Varhog grinned, knowing they could actually easily outdistance him. They left the hut and broke into a loping run, Varhog moving just as easily as if Willow hadn't been in his arms. She wouldn't have been able to keep up, though she was tall and fast for a human, and she seemed content to hold on for the ride.

-:-:-

They arrived at Tarhvek and Myrin's hut within minutes. The cold, early morning air had invigorated Willow, though she was warm and snug in Varhog's arms. She felt perfectly alert and excited for what was about to happen. Varhog knocked on the door to announce their presence before simply letting himself in. There were many Urgals in the front room, all of them family and most of them female.

Breetuk said, "Myrin wants the visitors to be present. The rest of us have seen this often enough. We're waiting out here so there will be room in the bedroom. Hurry! She's close."

They made their way back to the bedroom, Varhog in the lead and still carrying Willow. When he reached the door, Varhog gently pushed it open.

Murtagh and Nasuada were in one corner, standing against the wall with Murtagh behind his wife. Nasuada's face glowed with joy as she gazed at the scene on the bed. Varhog made his way over to stand by them with Eragon and Arya following, and they lined up opposite the bed.

Tarhvek sat on the bed with his back to the wall and a few pillows behind him. He was bare chested but had his pants on. Myrin was naked except for the undergarment over her chest, which appeared to fasten in the front. She squatted in between Tarhvek's outstretched legs and leaned back into his chest, her belly round and ponderous. Their three children were sitting around them on the bed, chattering excitedly but quietly. The two little girls petted their mother's hands.

At that moment, Myrin had her eyes closed and her head bowed. She appeared to be holding her breath, but then Willow simply realized that her exhalation was very slow and controlled. Tarhvek supported under her elbows to steady her and ease the strain of maintaining her squat. After a few more seconds of this, Myrin relaxed into her mate. She breathed in deeply and looked up, noticing the newcomers and greeting them with a bright smile. "Varhog, I'm so glad you made it! The baby's almost here."

Tarhvek stroked Myrin's arms in a soothing gesture, softly murmuring, "You're amazing, Myrin. That one was longer and stronger. The baby's nearly here. It moved down so much that time." He moved his hands to her belly, stroking there next.

Myrin whispered to the baby, "Thank you, little one, for waiting just the right amount of time. Now all are here who wished to see your arrival." She looked up at her son. "Do you think you'll get a brother, young Tarhvek?" The boy grinned widely, reaching forward to pat her breasts and exclaiming what sounded like, "kee kee." Willow wondered if it was the way the lad referred to his mother's milk. Myrin lovingly touched his small face. "Soon, honey. You'll share with the new baby when it arrives."

Tears came to Willow's eyes. It was so precious. There was no screaming or pain, just a family enjoying the most miraculous experience they would ever share. Arya and Nasuada seemed equally touched.

Then Willow noticed Myrin's womb tighten downward, and Myrin leaned forward once more, closing her eyes and deeply filling her lungs. She rested her arms lightly on her knees, no tension in her hands and her lower back pressed into Tarhvek as she curled even more around her baby. Her quiet exhale evolved into an instinctive groan, muted but powerful. From what Willow could see, there was nothing Myrin could do to stop the efforts of her womb and once she assisted them in the slightest, the urge to bear down overpowered her. She continued assisting her uterus and though she did not strain, her face had a look of intense concentration.

Willow observed a small bulge slowly moving down Myrin's body toward the opening. From his position, Tarhvek seemed to sense it as well, and he reached under Myrin's leg, holding his hand to the opening of her body and applying firm counter pressure. "The head, Myrin. It's crowning," he quietly informed. Myrin let out the last air in her lungs then relaxed back against him, more breathless than before. She replenished her air supply with slow, controlled breaths.

"That was the first one that took me over," she breathed. "The next one will bring the baby's head and maybe the body as well, if Tarhvek's birth is any indication of what to expect." She fell silent and focused on relaxing and resting before the final effort of her womb. Tarhvek kept his hand where it was, supporting the opening of her body as it stretched under the pressure of the baby's head.

Myrin opened her eyes once more to look at Arya, then Willow, then Nasuada, another joyful smile on her face. "Here it comes," she said. "Soon this will be you." Willow and Arya glanced over at Nasuada in surprise. She only nodded once, smiling and placing one hand over her lower abdomen in confirmation before turning her attention back to Myrin.

Myrin's last words were swallowed in a low hum that grew deeper as she curled over her womb once again. She took in a quick breath but it too was swallowed in the instinctive urge of her body. Her face tensed for the first time as her uterus moved in a powerful effort to push the baby out. She put one hand down next to Tarhvek's as the baby's head slowly emerged. They supported it gently, and the baby seemed to know that it needed to turn so it was facing sideways rather than backwards. This it did and once its shoulders were at the opening of Myrin's body, the body swiftly followed, along with a forceful gush of fluid that reached the children. They laughed in surprise, and Myrin gasped as she and Tarhvek caught the child in their hands.

Willow, Nasuada, and Arya gasped along with Myrin as the newborn baby suddenly emerged from its mother, there for all to see. Willow felt Varhog's muscles tense then heard his soft cry of amazement.

"A son!" Myrin exclaimed in delight, and Tarhvek grinned proudly. The baby let out one gusty cry then fell silent. Myrin laughed and cried simultaneously, a radiant smile on her face. "Hello, little one," she welcomed. "We're so happy to meet you." She shifted slightly, saying to Tarhvek, "I need to sit down. My legs are aching."

Tarhvek held the tiny infant in one great hand while Myrin braced herself against his thighs and stretched her legs out in front of her. Then she leaned back into him with a relieved look on her face, still breathing deeply and recovering from the mighty effort of her womb.

While Tarhvek continued to hold their new son, carefully supporting his neck and head, Myrin used her hands to work along the length of the cord still attaching him to the placenta. She pushed the supply of blood contained in the cord into the baby's body, and Willow watched in amazement as the purplish-gray pallor of the baby's skin took on a ruddy color.

Myrin looked up at them and explained, "The baby is born with only about two-thirds of its blood supply. The remaining one-third stays in the cord and placenta until after the birth, making it easier for the baby to fit through the birth path. It's important for the cord to remain attached to the baby until all of that blood can make its way into the baby's body. I'm simply helping it along, though more will come on its own." She then returned her attention to her baby, stroking his tiny face, arms, hands, legs, and feet. "He's so perfect, Tarhvek. We did an amazing job."

Her mate nodded, kissing the back of her neck. " _You_ did an amazing job, Myrin. He's beautiful." She smiled joyfully as tears once again came to her eyes.

Myrin scooted down a little to be more reclined, and Tarhvek matched her movements so she could still rest comfortably against him. Myrin then said, "Mother, will you get me a blanket for my legs? They're cold." Willow suspected that Myrin also wished to be more modest for the sake of the human males present, now that the moment of birth had passed.

Myrintuk, who had hung back to quietly observe the miraculous event, came forward with a blanket and spread it over Myrin's legs up to the bottom edge of her abdomen, which now looked deflated and saggy. She then grabbed a towel and began drying off the children, who watched their tiny new brother with wide eyes.

With a loving smile Myrintuk said to them, "How did you like your bath just now, children?" The children giggled, and all who heard either laughed or smiled.

Myrin invited the children over. "Come and meet your brother. He's strong and healthy. Stroke him softly, please."

Willow looked at Varhog as she felt him laugh for the first time in days at his mother's comment. "I missed that," Willow said with tears in her eyes. He kissed her. "That was amazing," she added, referring to the birth. He nodded, too emotional for words. Willow twisted to look at Arya. "Is that how it is among the elves?"

Arya tore her tear-filled eyes from the beautiful scene on the bed, where she had been drinking in every second. "Yes, much like that. We use more singing, at least in the beginning. But near the end, it's much like that. From what I've heard, the urge to bear down is simply undeniable. Nothing can be done to ignore it once the womb insists that it is time. She did amazingly." She turned her head to look at Eragon, who held her from behind. "Well, what did you think, darling? Slightly better than what you heard of Hope's birth?"

Eragon also had a hard time taking his eyes off the family in front of him, but once he had, he gazed at Arya in wonder. "Aye," he agreed. "That was incredible to see only the two of them take care of it so smoothly without any interfering hands. Let's have our baby that way. You'll have to teach me what I need to know. She was so comfortable and in control. There was never a loud shriek or cry. Such noises must scare the baby, don't you think?"

Arya nodded. "Very observant, Eragon. Yes, the baby can feel its mother's emotions and feelings, especially if she's in pain, as completely as it affects the whole body. Did you notice how the baby only cried out once? He was so calmly and gently brought into this world that he only performed the obligatory cry, which assists the womb in clamping down and expelling the placenta, before falling silent. A screaming baby after a birth is often indicating its displeasure and pain at how violent and frightening the experience was for them. _This_ is how childbirth is supposed to be." She returned her eyes to the bed.

Myrin gently scooped the baby from Tarhvek's hands and laid him tummy down over her lower abdomen. The children reached forward at their mother's invitation, gently touching his back and head while murmuring to him in soft tones.

The two-year-old boy, young Tarhvek, who had just moments ago seemed so small next to everyone in the room, now appeared gigantic compared to the miniature size of the baby. He hopefully looked at his mother, once again patting her chest.

Myrin said, "Yes, honey, come have your milk. Your new brother will smell it and soon find his way to join you. And it will help my womb shrink back down. Tarhvek, will you help me remove this top?"

Young Tarhvek waited patiently while his father unfastened Myrin's undershirt. Then the boy scooted up and expertly latched himself onto her breast, leaning his head against her chest so he could still look down at the baby and softly pat his head. Myrin smiled in delight. She was surrounded by everyone she loved most dearly, finally able to meet the baby she had long carried. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply to relax, resting her head against Tarhvek's shoulder as the anticipated surge tightened her womb.

The baby, who at first lay still on his mother's abdomen, soon began to fidget and squirm. Myrin asked the children to draw their hands back and watch as their brother made his way to his food. The baby slowly but determinedly scooted his way up Myrin's body, pushing with kicking motions of his tiny knees and legs and pulling with grasping motions of his hands. Each time he was able to bring his face level with his hand, he would open his mouth wide and search around expectantly. Myrin laughed at his bright-eyed efforts. "Not quite there, little one," she murmured encouragingly. "Keep going." Tarhvek watched over her shoulder, his expression still awed and full of pride.

The baby continued doggedly until he was level with her open breast. He reached out a tiny fist and opened his fingers, clumsily patting around until he found what he was searching for and could see from the corner of his eye—her nipple. He grasped it and pulled himself toward it, once again using his hands and feet. When his mouth was right next to it, he rested his head down in exhaustion at his long efforts, remaining there for several minutes. Then his determination surged again, and he lifted his head to the side while opening his tiny mouth wide to grasp a great mouthful of his mother's nipple. Once he had done this, he automatically began suckling with motions that were completely reflexive at this early time.

Myrin shifted her arm to cradle the side of his body so he could rest his head against it, delightedly crooning, "You did it! Hooray, baby!"

Willow felt like clapping at the amazing display of resolve from one who could otherwise not move himself at all. For him to move that great distance, driven by instinct and reflexes, was truly awe-inspiring. She contented herself with beaming broadly and once again turning to Varhog to share her joy. He returned her smile with one of equal wonder.

Myrin then requested, "Mother, will you please get me a drink?" Myrintuk brought her a glass of water, which Myrin greedily drank. Then she said, "I suppose we should attend to the tree of life." She addressed young Tarhvek, stroking his head. "That's all for now, honey. Mother needs to take care of something. But there will be plenty more in just a day or so and you'll be grateful to share with your brother, since your milk has all but disappeared these last months. I'll also be grateful to have your help removing all the extra milk."

Myrin kissed the top of his head before he withdrew, thanking her with a happy smile and placing his small hand on her cheek while he lovingly said, "Mama." Then he turned and climbed into his grandmother's arms.

Myrin turned her face slightly toward her mate. "Tarhvek, will you please help me get upright again?" She sat forward, and he easily supported her weight with his hands around her waist, not disturbing the baby at all. Myrin tiredly pulled her legs back under her, mostly letting her husband hold her as she caught the placenta with her free hand. It came out with no apparent effort, as it must have detached from her womb many minutes before and awaited its birth in the opening of her body.

Now Willow saw blood for the first time. Very little had been present at the birth of the baby, but a great gush of it flowed out behind the placenta, held at bay until its departure from Myrin's body. But no one seemed at all concerned. Myrintuk had brought a clean dish along with the glass of water, and after setting her grandson down, she extended it toward Myrin, who placed the tree of life inside.

Tarhvek continued to hold Myrin up as her mother removed some of the soaked towels under her body and replaced them with fresh, clean ones. Then he lowered her gently back down, helping her get comfortable. Once both of his hands were free, and since Myrin was supporting the baby at her breast in one arm and was waiting for a bowl of water to rinse off her other hand, Tarhvek reached for some supplies laying on the table next to the bed. He used a sharp knife to cut a length of yarn into two equal pieces. With practiced motions he then tied the baby's cord in two places, once several inches from the baby's navel and again a few inches beyond that. When the strings were secured, he easily cut the cord that had attached the baby to the tree of life.

Myrin looked up at Arya, Willow, and Nasuada and said, "If you're interested in seeing this, you're welcome to come over. I'll eat some of it now, then my mother will take it and prepare it for me to use over the next several days and weeks."

Varhog finally set Willow down for the first time in hours, and the three women eagerly approached the bed. Before rinsing her hand, Myrin spread the organ out and showed them how one side was deep red, rough, and coarse like a piece of raw meat. This, she explained, was the side that had attached to her womb. The other side was smooth, shiny, and varying shades of blue, purple, and red. Myrin indicated the many veins that branched along the surface and flowed toward the cord, just as tree branches congregate in the trunk of the tree.

Willow said, "I see what you meant about it looking like a tree. It's amazing." Myrin used the thumb and first two fingers of her bloodied hand to pinch off a small amount of the organ from the coarse side. She pressed it into a towel to remove most of the excess blood and placed it in her mouth, smiling at Nasuada's not-quite-disguised expression of disgust.

"It's actually good," Myrin reassured. "And a very instinctive thing for a mammal to do, though it must seem strange to one never before exposed to the concept." Then she finally rinsed her hand off in the bowl of warm water Myrintuk had brought for her.

Myrintuk took the bowl with the placenta and handed it to Breetuk, who had briefly entered in order to help with this task. She crouched down near the bed, quietly addressing the children. "Come along, children. We'll go get some breakfast and play with your cousins." The children quickly hopped off the bed, and Breetuk herded them out the door, still carrying the bowl with the placenta.

Myrin then said, "Tarhvek and I now want to rest with our new son." She looked at her mother. "Will you ensure that the children are cared for, please? And I could really use more water." Myrintuk brought her another full glass, which Myrin swiftly drained. Then she smiled and handed the empty cup back. "Thank you, mother."

Myrintuk leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Congratulations, daughter. You have a beautiful new son. Don't worry about the other children. They'll be fine."

Myrin looked up at her audience once more. In a tired but triumphant voice she said, "Thank you all for being here to witness that. It was truly an honor to share it with you. I hope it fills you with excitement for what your futures hold. Come back in a few days to meet the baby. He needs time to first get acquainted with us before meeting any new people."

Willow and the other women all murmured fervent thanks for the opportunity, along with promises to return when Myrin was ready for visitors. Before they could leave, Myrin called to Varhog, who was following behind the others with Willow by his side. Varhog stopped and turned to face Myrin as she invited, "Varhog, will you please come over here?"

Keeping hold of Willow's hand, Varhog went to her side. "Yes, Myrin?"

"I want you to meet your newest nephew right now," she said with a glowing smile. Varhog knelt down and peered at the tiny infant, who now slept deeply with his mother's breast still in his mouth. "Varhog, meet Varhog. We're naming him after you."

Varhog looked at her in surprise, his eyes filling with tears. "You don't have to do that, Myrin."

"Yes, I know. But I want to. I'm so glad you were here, Varhog. Your presence meant more to me than anyone else's. It was such a gift to have you arrive back for your first visit just in time to be here for this. This is my gift in return. Next to Tarhvek and our children, you mean more to me than anyone, so it only seems fitting that our second son be named after you."

Varhog placed a hand over her arm where it cradled the baby so his fingers gently brushed the baby's back. "Thank you," he said in a voice deeply affected by emotion. "I'm honored." He then raised his hand to Myrin's cheek before withdrawing it. He looked at Tarhvek. "Thank _you_ too. And congratulations. That was amazing. He's a fine son." Tarhvek nodded.

"We'll go now," Varhog said. "Rest well. We'll come when summoned." They turned to go and began walking toward the door. Then with a knowing grin over his shoulder, Varhog repeated the advice Myrin had given him the night she had helped Willow clean and dress. "Enjoy yourselves, sister. If I know you, you'll not rest long now that the baby is out of your womb. Not that you did before." He chuckled at Myrin's delighted laugh.

Myrin said, "I have to do _something_ to regain my comely shape. Tarhvek will be most willing to help with that."

Willow looked back to see Tarhvek grin and once again kiss Myrin on the back of her neck, clearly demonstrating how much he loved her. They had just painted a beautiful picture for her of how she wanted her own birth to be and of how she envisioned her future family. She and Varhog left hand in hand, walking slowly back to Arya and Eragon's hut.

* * *

 **A/N:** The next chapter contains discussion and brief description of intimate love.


	36. New Experiment

**36\. New Experiment**

It was just after daybreak and the first snowflakes of the early storm were starting to swirl lazily toward the earth, melting on contact.

Varhog put his arm around Willow's shoulders when she began to shiver. She looked up at him with a grateful smile. "Arya said there's one more phase of the treatment to ensure that my allergy—especially to your semen—is taken care of. She said she would explain it when you returned so she'd only need to once."

Varhog nodded. "What do you suppose this will entail?" he wondered.

Willow smiled mischievously. "Hopefully some lovemaking!" she exclaimed. "I need to be in contact with it but not for a long time. I'm not really sure what that means. I guess Arya will explain it to us."

Varhog pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. Then he lifted her into his arms and cradled her once more. "This will help you stay warm," he said. "If we're lucky, maybe after this treatment is over, this storm will start in earnest and snow us in for a few days."

"I'd be happier with a few weeks," Willow impishly said. "Or even better, all winter. A perfect excuse never to leave our hut or your arms." He smiled at her, and she put her arms around his neck, resting her forehead against his cheek.

They entered the hut to find Eragon and Arya sitting at the table eating a small breakfast. Arya said, "We only arrived a few minutes ago. Help yourselves, if you wish. There's plenty."

Varhog and Willow each served themselves some food and sat on the sofa so they could be side by side. Between mouthfuls, Arya said, "I suppose you'll want to quickly finish the last phase of your treatment so you can get back to life as you want it."

Willow nodded and said, "Yes, please. What must we do?"

Arya appeared thoughtful. "I've been thinking about this. Willow, we need you to be in contact with his semen while I perform the techniques that will clear your allergy to it, but I fear it cannot be inside your body because after a brief time, we'll need to wash it off so the new energy message can pass unhindered through the twelve energy pathways."

Varhog interrupted, "Will I have to leave again?"

"No," Arya reassured with a quick shake of her head. "So long as Willow does not once again come in contact with your semen during the next day, the treatment should still work. I'll ascertain that the first treatment was as effective as it appears to have been, given Willow's reaction to your presence. If it was, she'll no longer feel any discomfort in response to her sensory perceptions of you—your smell, your voice, and so forth. If this second treatment then takes effect as well as the first, you'll be free to carry on as a happily married couple."

Willow asked, "So we must get some of Varhog's semen but not inside of me?" Arya nodded. Willow grinned at Varhog. "Sounds like we'll get to do some more experimenting."

Eragon smiled at Willow's expression, but Varhog made a face indicating his displeasure. "This doesn't seem appropriate to me unless I can be with Willow and have her help somehow. Will that be allowed?"

"Of course," Arya said. "You two may do whatever you wish. It might be helpful to have a glass or something so you can catch the fluid in it." She was clearly trying to remain aloof and clinical, but she colored slightly at her final remark. Varhog also appeared to be uncomfortable, but Eragon and Willow laughed at the prospect and also at their spouses.

"Very well," Willow said in obvious anticipation. "We'll begin right after breakfast. As much as I'm looking forward to this, I'm not so brazen as to feel comfortable with you two around."

"We'll leave," Eragon assured with another laugh. "And go far enough away that even _our_ keen ears won't hear." He glanced innocently at Arya as she blushed more deeply. "And now the proper elven Arya has emerged," he remarked in amusement, adding to Willow, "Just come find us when you're done. I imagine we'll be waiting near enough that you won't need to wander far before calling for us will get our attention."

Willow commented, "It doesn't surprise me that an elf would be uncomfortable by the impropriety of this discussion but an Urgal? Come, Varhog. Has your old shyness returned?"

Varhog couldn't repress a smile at her question, and he answered, "I suppose it has somewhat. Or so it seems. Not that I too am not anticipating this, I'm simply uncomfortable that they'll know perfectly what it is we're doing."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Willow shamelessly said. "Our experiments have been most interesting. If anything, I'd imagine Eragon wouldn't mind a peek into our creativity, if only to witness the amazing achievement only an Urgal ram is capable of. Wouldn't you, brother?"

For Arya's sake, Eragon attempted to control his response, but he still laughed as Willow stifled a fit of snickering. If such a thing was possible, Varhog's gray skin had taken on a pinkish tone, and Arya's cheeks were now deep crimson. Eragon stroked them. "I'm sorry, my love," he said. To Willow, though he did not take his eyes off his wife, he added, "We ought not to provoke them so, sister. But in answer to your question, I'm not sure that would be advisable. Since you are to have only limited contact with your allergen, Varhog had best not bring that weapon to bear in this next interaction."

When Arya stood with a huff and a roll of her eyes, Eragon raised his hands apologetically, still smiling. "Forgive me, Arya. I'm sorry again. And this time I mean it. No more lewd comments." He drew his finger over his lips as he closed them as if promising they would remain sealed.

Arya smiled and sat down in his lap to show that she wasn't angry with him. Eragon put his arms around her and kissed her burning cheek, and Arya sighed. "I'll say it for you since your lips are sworn to silence. 'I love seeing you blush.'" He smiled affectionately and nodded. She turned to him, finally letting herself laugh a bit. "I love you, you great oaf." And she kissed his lips in return.

Willow laughed again. "Well, are you finished, Yelloweyes? You haven't eaten much, but by the look on your face, I'm guessing you don't have much of an appetite."

Varhog looked at her with the same affectionate smile that was on Eragon's face. "You've guessed right. I'd prefer to get this over with and leave these two in peace. We've intruded on their hospitality long enough."

Eragon and Arya shook their heads. "Not at all," Arya assured them.

"I'd still prefer to get it over with," Varhog repeated as he stood. "The sooner I can properly make love to my wife again, the better." His deep chuckle was an invitation for them all to join him, which they did.

The others also stood, and Arya said, "Make yourselves at home. There are glasses in that cupboard over the sink." She and Eragon retrieved some heavy winter cloaks from a chair near the door, swept them on around their shoulders, and left the hut.

Willow went and got a cup, handing it to Varhog when she returned to his side so she could grab her dress from the floor, where it lay neatly folded. Then she took his free hand and pulled him to the bedroom. Once there, she stepped behind him with a short, "Don't look," and quickly removed the clothing Arya had lent her to replace it with the beautiful gown.

"There," she said, moving back to his side. They stood in front of the bed, silently staring at it for a moment. "It doesn't feel right to use it," Willow commented. "Like it's _their_ personal shrine."

Varhog nodded his agreement, and Willow looked around the room with a sly grin on her face. "Well, that leaves us a few choices. We could always stand. Or there's the floor, which would be new but potentially uncomfortable, especially if I were underneath. Oh by the way, I never got to tell you since the Willow witch came out to play right then, but I _loved_ it when you were on top. _Loved_ it, Yelloweyes. We definitely need to do more of that. And also since I couldn't then, or at least since it wasn't as believable with the way my eyes looked, I'm so sorry for what I said, no _shrieked_ at you, so loudly it almost broke the window panes. Even though I could see how it broke your heart, the pain was so excruciating that there was nothing I could do—"

Varhog placed a finger over her lips, turning so they were facing one another. With a gentle smile he said, "I missed you, Eartheyes. Not just yesterday but all the days before. It wasn't the real you, but now you're back and I'm so glad. I felt a moment of your pain then and it was agonizing. I should be the one apologizing for causing that. It's the reason why this," he leaned down to kiss her, "will never have the same unbearable pull on me as it once did. Nothing will be able to interfere with my control when it comes to this again, since it almost killed you when I lost track of time. That was inexcusable."

He stopped and ran his eyes down her body. "You look as beautiful as ever in that. And it still fills me with longing, which I imagine was your intention, given the unusual objective we have right now. But since the successful completion of this goal will ensure that a situation such as we endured will never taint our love again, I'm willing to go through with it, no matter how unwelcome the idea of having a release into a cup is. Forgive me, though. I interrupted you. Were you finished?"

Willow smiled at him. "I almost was. I just noticed that chair over there and thought it might be a fun and novel experiment." She regretfully regarded the cup in his hand. "I'm willing to finish this as quickly as possible, Varhog, but . . . can we . . . ? Would you make love to me first? I can't even begin to describe how empty and lonely I've been, though I'm sure there's no need, since you experienced exactly the same thing and understand perfectly." She looked at him hopefully. "You have the ability to wait, right? Or am I mistaken?"

Varhog wrapped his arms around her. "Yes, I can wait, thanks to the excellent practice you have given me. Nothing would give me greater happiness than doing that for you, Eartheyes. I died a little every day I couldn't even touch your hand."

"Thank you, sweetheart," Willow softly said. "Shall we begin?"

Varhog nodded, guiding her over to the chair. "This _does_ sound interesting," he said as he set the cup on an adjacent table and began unlacing the top of his shirt.

Willow put her hands on his wrists to stop him. "I hoped we could begin this experiment by undressing each other," she said. "Do you object?"

"No," Varhog said. "Not at all."

"Good. You go first."

So Varhog did, and when he was done, he whispered, "Your body is so perfect, Willow. So beautiful. Thank you for asking me to do that. I should have known how much I would enjoy it. It makes me wonder why I never insisted on doing it before."

Willow smiled up at him. "My turn." She started with his shirt and finished with his pants, and once she had, she muttered approvingly as she snuggled into him, echoing his words, "Your body is so perfect, Varhog. So beautiful. I could touch you all day, as unladylike as it sounds."

"I wish you would sometime," he invited. "Even when you're massaging as hard as you can, it feels so gentle and tantalizing to me."

They kissed for a time, enjoying their first opportunity to do so without having to immediately make love, and it ignited the deep rumbling in his chest. Willow pulled away to say, "I love that sound. I missed you so much, Varhog. All of you and all of this."

"I can tell," Varhog replied. "And all I can think about is how obvious it is that you still love me. I could just kiss you forever, as much as it's healing me of your unintentional rejection last week."

"But I'm afraid I don't have the same patience," Willow said in a tone of teasing regret. "So shall we sit?" She pulled on his shoulders to encourage Varhog into the chair behind him.

And, through a few more new and interesting trials, they successfully accomplished both of the purposes of their experiment. When they were done, Willow heard Varhog return the cup to the table as she continued her playful efforts with her hands.

After an unsuccessful attempt to speak, Varhog finally managed to choke out, "Willow . . . you need to stop." Willow reluctantly stilled her hands and pulled her mouth away from his face. He cleared his throat. "Thank you . . . for your help. I, uh . . . wasn't expecting that, and it felt . . . _unbelievable_. To think I feared it would be unpleasant and unnatural. I'll never again doubt our abilities, Eartheyes, but I need to calm down so we can complete your treatment. I'm sure Firesword and Arya must be wondering what's taking us so long."

Willow grinned wickedly. "If they knew, they'd be green with jealously at the extent of our enjoyment and creativity. I'm sure they understand, Yelloweyes," she said with a sigh of disappointment as she slid back off his lap and put her feet on the ground to stand. "They had to wait far longer than we to consummate their love. They were gone for an entire week and a half on their honeymoon, as I'm sure you remember, and they got to enjoy every day of it in one another's arms, unlike us. They won't resent us our pleasure now."

"I'm sure you're right," Varhog agreed, reluctantly releasing his hold and standing up with her.

Willow glanced at the cup. "That's quite a lot," she commented conversationally.

Varhog shrugged. "It has been a few days."

"Does it always build up? Surely you occasionally experience some type of release, if only to keep your organs healthy since they're always creating the fluid. Before we were married what happened?"

"A release can happen while I sleep without my conscious awareness," Varhog replied.

"I see," Willow said.

Varhog grinned. "I love how open you are. You always ask whatever you want to know and are never afraid or ashamed."

"Apparently it's a good trait to have. Look where it got me. I'm the first human woman to have an Urgal ram as a mate. If word ever got out as to what a truly unique pleasure _that_ is, all the male humans and elves would have to worry, as well as the Urgralgra females. All the human and elven women would flock into the Urgal villages in pursuit of a ram, and the females would no longer have any potential mates." Willow smiled in return as Varhog laughed at her picture, insisting, "I'm serious!"

Varhog swept her into his arms. "I know," he whispered. "And I love you all the more for it. But you needn't worry. Unless there are many more female humans or elves as strong, determined, and fearless as you _,_ no Urgal ram would ever consider one. But it's only his loss, I suppose, for I could say the same about being the first Urgal ram in history to know the pleasure of having a human female as my mate. Such a soft hide, no horns but my own to interfere with any kiss I wish to bestow, and such beautiful, warm, shining brown eyes." He looked tenderly into them. "I love you, Eartheyes."

Willow continued to smile through the tears that suddenly filled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. "I'm such a crybaby. I've cried more this past week than the rest of my entire life, which is saying something, considering all my family died before me. You bring out the best in me, Yelloweyes," she teased.

Varhog laughed and released her so they could dress. Willow put on Arya's clothes once more. "This feels as it should again," he said. "Easy and effortless, like we're friends and lovers. I love being with you, Willow."

"Yes, Varhog. And I you." He left the cup where it was, taking her hand as they exited the room.


	37. Second Treatment

**37\. Second Treatment**

When they reached the front room, Varhog dropped her hand and said, "I'm louder. I'll go out and call for them." He opened the door, closing it behind himself. Willow thought she understood why when she heard him bellow with terrifying volume, "Firesword! We're done!" Then Varhog came back in and smiled at her. "That should do it."

"I would expect so," Willow mildly said, attempting to keep her face blank. "I would imagine the good folk in Teirm just wondered what fearsome beast was upon them." Her resolve broke, and a fit of laughter overcame her.

Varhog chuckled deeply and sprang toward her. It was such a familiar move that Willow almost instinctively dodged it, but she suppressed the reflex and stayed where she was, loving how it felt when he caught her.

When they had first started sparring, Varhog had caught her every time, and Willow had grown increasingly frustrated by her ineptness. She hadn't perceived the circle of his arms as she did now, and when she had first successfully dodged such an attack, she was astonished by her triumph.

Varhog crushed her against his mighty chest, his powerful arms an inescapable prison. Willow turned her face toward his as he lowered it and playfully nuzzled her neck, growling like a rabid beast and saying, "I like it when you let me catch you. I know you could have evaded that." Willow giggled at the ticklish sensation.

They were thus engaged when Eragon and Arya burst through the door, appearing winded, which made Willow wonder if they had been racing. "You're still faster," Arya complained.

"But only just," Eragon soothed. "Perhaps because of the baby." Arya smiled at him, looking mollified, and then they both noticed Willow and Varhog.

"You two look happier," Eragon observed.

Willow nodded. "Yes. I just needed my mate. Nothing a little time in his arms can't cure." Varhog chuckled, and Willow placed her hands over his chest where she felt it the most. "I missed that so much these last days, sweetheart. It's music to my ears."

Varhog kissed the top of her head, murmuring, "As is yours to mine."

Eragon smiled, and Arya seemed touched. But, with a return of her clinical, business-like manner, she said, "Well, shall we proceed then? Where is the fluid? You were successful, I presume?"

"Most definitely," Varhog assured. "It's still in the bedroom."

Willow and Varhog followed the other two down the hallway. Arya and Eragon both regarded the bed once they were standing in front of it.

"You left it so neat," Arya commented.

"We didn't use it," Willow explained. "It seemed wrong somehow, knowing what you two have undoubtedly done on it."

Arya raised her eyebrows, and Eragon grinned. Though she was trying to subdue it, Arya's curiosity got the better of her. "Where did you . . . ?"

"The chair," Willow said, pointing toward the cup on the table.

Arya's eyes widened even more. "The chair? Why can't I ever think up the really good ideas? That gives me some interesting things to contemplate as we finish up this treatment business. I'll try to keep my mind where it should be. Willow, please sit on the bed. I'm going to determine whether the first treatment I performed was effective."

"It was," Willow and Varhog both said at the same time, looking at each other and laughing.

"That's good to hear," Arya said with an amused smile. "I will nonetheless ascertain that your brain agrees." She moved to stand in front of Willow sitting obediently on the bed. "Hold one arm straight out from your body at shoulder height," she instructed.

"Like this?" Willow asked, lifting one arm in front of her with her palm down.

"Exactly. I'll be lightly pressing down on your arm. Try to resist it with your normal strength, no more. I'm going to ask your brain a series of questions. It will perceive the energy of my thoughts and answer me through the muscle of your arm. All of my questions will be close-ended, meaning they can be answered with either yes or no. If your arm remains strong, your body is telling me no. If it goes weak, your body is telling me yes. Some practitioners have the exact opposite method, but this is how I was trained. I can ask the questions silently by simply thinking the thought to your brain and it will still work, but I'll demonstrate aloud once so you can observe. Then for the sake of speed, I will do the rest mentally. It's called muscle-testing, and is a very simple, effective, safe method of diagnosis."

Arya lifted one hand to the wrist of Willow's upraised arm and asked, "Are you allergic to Varhog's voice?" She pressed down, and Willow's arm remained strong. Arya continued, "Physically?" and the arm stayed up. "Chemically?" and there was no change. "Emotionally?" and once again, Willow's arm was strong. "Is your allergy to Varhog's voice cleared?" Willow's arm plunged downward, and she laughed.

"I couldn't control it," Willow said in awe.

"No, it's completely subconscious. The only time it might not work is if I tried to do it on someone as strong as Eragon or Varhog. They could resist my effort with very little thought. And Varhog? Well, I imagine I could _jump_ on his outstretched arm and it wouldn't budge downward." Willow laughed, grinning proudly at Varhog.

Arya went on, "They would need to be tested through a surrogate, someone whose own strength did not so greatly exceed my own. It also might not be effective on someone much weaker than I, who couldn't resist my effort even if they tried. But as you can tell, I'm pressing very little. Now keep your arm up and resisting. I will swiftly run through the same questions with the other sensory perceptions of Varhog." This she did, and Willow's arm followed the same pattern of remaining strong then going weak once at the end.

However, when Willow's arm repeatedly dropped three times in a row, she inquired, "What were you asking then?"

Arya replied, "I asked if you were allergic to his semen and got yes for each of the three levels. Varhog, will you please bring me the cup?" Varhog did and handed it to her. Arya glanced at it, and Willow could have sworn that Arya had the same thought about the volume of the contents as Willow had earlier, though Arya had the decency not to comment. Willow bit her lower lip to keep from smiling but did a poor job. Arya's eyes flitted to hers, and Willow's laugh bubbled out in spite of her efforts.

Willow clamped a hand over her mouth but kept laughing. "I'm sorry," she cried in a muffled voice. "I'm being so immature, but I just can't help it." She closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. Finally she managed a shaky suppression of her mirth, keeping her eyes closed as the smile threatened to break forth into laughter.

When she spoke, Arya's voice revealed her amusement. "I'm going to need you to hold this, Willow." Willow's shoulders started shaking. "You had best open your eyes so you don't spill it."

Willow desperately shook her head, the mirth at the very surface once more. "I can't. I'm trying to control my silliness but to no avail. Forgive me, everyone." Willow took another deep breath and finally managed to control her merriment, setting her face as she took the cup from Arya and looked pointedly away from it.

Willow noticed Eragon's confusion when her face was turned. "What's so funny?" he asked.

"It's nothing," Willow insisted. "Earlier I commented to Varhog that it seemed like a lot of semen. When Arya appeared to have the same thought, I thought it was funny. But I'm being ridiculous. Sorry, Arya. Go ahead," Willow finished, returning her attention to Arya.

Arya dismissively shook her head, still smiling. "Hold it in one hand and raise your arm like before," she directed.

"Do I need to have it touching my skin?" Willow asked, determinedly clenching her jaw to prevent the smile from returning.

"No, the electromagnetic field passes through glass," Arya responded, "which is probably for the best. This way it won't irritate your skin, since you're still so violently allergic to it. Is it safe to assume that none got on you when you collected this?"

"Yes," Willow confirmed.

"Then let's finish this," Arya said.

Willow asked, "How long does the treatment need? Twenty-four or twenty-five hours?"

"Twenty-five to be safe," Arya answered. "I'll notify you somehow when the time is up. Then come back here and I will retest to be sure the treatment was effective." She performed the muscle test once more while Willow was holding the cup with Varhog's semen, and Willow's arm plummeted more easily than before. "This is a serious allergy. As difficult as it will be, do your best not to interfere with this treatment. I don't know what you did to collect this, but I would recommend that you even avoid joining your bodies."

Willow nodded firmly but not without a look of desperate sadness as Arya swiftly began the treatment that involved tapping down Willow's spine. Then Arya used her fingers to massage all of the pressure points of the liver pathway, this time over Willow's clothes. When she was done, she asked Willow to hold up her arm and repeated her light pressure down. Willow's arm stayed strong. "The allergy to his semen is cleared, but this new energy message must pass unhindered through your body. Hold the cup for about ten more minutes, then you will be done. I'll have you wash your hands before you go."

"I understand," Willow quietly said, finally able to look at the contents of the cup in her hands without amusement. She stared at the clear fluid that looked white, accumulated as it was, thinking of where it had come from and how she wished it could have gone into her body as it was meant to. She remembered the burning agony that innocuous fluid had created within her and shuddered. How could she ever forget? Willow was seized with overwhelming gratitude for what Arya was doing for her, giving her the chance to continue in her marriage and enjoyment of this expression. She tore her gaze from the cup and looked at Arya. "Thank you," she fervently breathed, and Arya inclined her head in acknowledgement.

Willow tightly clutched the cup for the remainder of the required time, focusing her mind on the energy of the minute specks moving doggedly through the fluid. She set it on the table when she was supposed to and went to wash her hands. She saw in the mirror when Varhog appeared behind her and, with hands still wet, turned and slid her arms around his muscular waist.

"These next twenty-five hours will be hard," she murmured. "Can we perhaps fly twelve and half hours one direction, then turn and fly back so we arrive at our hut at just the right time?"

"I feel the same," Varhog admitted. "How can we be together but apart like this? It would be easier if our honeymoon hadn't been so rudely interrupted last week. Then we might not feel so starved for one another."

Willow nodded. "True. But I change my mind. I want you to hold me and not let me go the whole time we must wait. I don't want to be cold and alone. I'm so tired, I could probably sleep most of it anyway."

"Yes," Varhog agreed, "that does sound better. Right now I feel as if I could sleep for a few days straight."

"Then let's go. We need to leave them alone." Willow tilted her head in the direction of the bedroom then slipped around him and went to the table where the food from breakfast was still out. She grabbed a fair amount of it and returned to him. "You carry me, I'll feed us," she suggested.

Varhog smiled. "Very well." He grabbed the blanket on the sofa and also reached for her dress, which she had brought with them when they first left the bedroom. "Can't forget this," he muttered, draping the blanket around her shoulders before lifting her into his arms and walking toward the door.

Since Eragon and Arya had never left their bedroom, Willow called back over Varhog's shoulder, "We're leaving. Thank you." Then Varhog let them out and walked in the direction of their hut under the increasing flurry of snowflakes.

-:-:-:-

* * *

 **A/N:** Next chapter has discussion of intimacy.


	38. Ideas

**38\. Ideas**

Arya and Eragon were already busy when they heard Willow call out her farewell. Arya had immediately begun her experiment involving the chair, which led to some new and amazing experiences. When they were done, Arya incredulously murmured, "That was _long_ , Eragon."

"The longest," he agreed. "It was . . . epic." Then he laughed breathlessly at his choice of words. "Thank you, Arya. It felt unbelievable."

"Why so long this time?" she wondered.

Eragon shrugged, slowly gaining control of himself. "Maybe it had something to do with the chair. I'm a fan. It's my new favorite."

Arya laughed. "Let's see. We have done this on the ground, with you on top, with me on top, while standing, in cold water, in a bed, on dragon back, and now on a chair. Perhaps we are not as uncreative as I feared. But _I_ will be the one to come up with the next new scenario. Help me think. Where else can we experiment?"

"I like the sound of this," Eragon said, "and I'm happy to help you come up with some new ideas, but let's get more comfortable first. I can tell that you want to relax now, but that's difficult sitting up in this chair." He stood, carried her to the bed, and sat down, scooting back and shifting around until they were both warm and comfortable. "Any better?"

"Mm-hmm," Arya mumbled, snuggling into him and running her fingers along his chest.

"So, as far as innovative ideas go," Eragon said, returning their thoughts to her suggestion, "we could try hot water, though that isn't very novel. How about in a tree?"

Arya smiled. "Good idea. Both of them." Then she contributed, "In front of everyone?"

Eragon chuckled. "But not here in the Urgal village. I'm not sure I could handle the humiliation. Maybe in Ellesméra. There we might earn some properly scandalized expressions."

Arya giggled in delight. "Can you just imagine them all witnessing their former queen making love with her human husband while seven or eight months pregnant?" She laughed more loudly, and he joined her. "The sight would be so priceless that it's _almost_ enough to get me to consider it."

Eragon assumed an expression of mock disappointment. "You needn't feel bad," Arya comforted. "That one was my idea."

"But the location was mine," Eragon reminded with a dismissive laugh. "Very well, what else? How about while falling through the air? That would be thrilling. We could start on Saphira or Fírnen then just let ourselves tumble off into oblivion, pretend we can't use magic, and hope our dragon would catch us before our imminent deaths."

Arya laughed again. "It would surely make for an even more exciting climax. Hmm, how about in the snow? Looks like it will start in earnest soon."

"Yes, that would be interesting. We would have to try that one right before the hot water one. Maybe Varhog knows of a place that would serve our purpose. I'll ask him."

"I wonder what Willow meant by having to try _more_ experiments," Arya mused.

"All you need do is ask her," Eragon assured. "She is sure to tell you directly, with no embarrassment or delicacy."

"Yes," Arya agreed with a rueful smile. "That she is. I love those two. I sometimes wish I could be more like Willow. She's so open and unpretentious, but it's so hard. Too many years as an elf, I suppose. Give me a few more years as your wife and _her_ sister, and I just might have a chance."

"It if means you'll stop blushing, then you had better not," Eragon warned. "I couldn't live without that every few days."

Arya playfully pushed at him. "Even with _this_ every day?"

"Aye, even then. I love seeing you blush. Your skin is so beautiful and fair, but it takes on the most exquisite glow when you do. It's one of the things I love most about you along with . . . hmm . . . let me see. . . . Oh yes! _Everything_ else."

"Thank you, darling," Arya breathed with a weary laugh.

"You're starting to get tired, and I'm feeling quite content myself," Eragon commented. "I had a couple more ideas. Would you like to hear them now?" Arya nodded against him. "They're nothing amazing, but they're different. While dancing. On a table. With me behind. With our mouths."

"You're just a wellspring of creativity, now aren't you?" Arya said in amusement. "Have you always had all these ideas?"

Eragon shook his head, smiling. "No. I only started thinking when you asked. Apparently it didn't take much for my fantasies to start flowing. I'm also looking forward to the increasing challenge once that baby gets bigger." He stroked softly over her lower back, unable to reach the area of her abdomen that was still for the most part—at least outwardly—completely unchanged.

"Well, I'm looking forward to trying _all_ of them," Arya insisted. "But I feel so comfortable and sleepy right now. How about a nap?"

"Perfect," Eragon said. "I feel exactly the same, and our rest these last few nights has been far less than satisfying. Sleep well, my love." And with that, they drifted off.

-:-:-:-

* * *

 **A/N:** If you are reading according to the Eragon/Arya track (which is explained in detail at the end of Part One), you will find your suggested chapters for Part Three at the beginning of Chapter One. That story is entitled _The Cycle Continues Part Three: Full Circle._ To find it, search that title or go to my profile and click on it in my listed stories.


	39. Unexpected Visitor

**39\. Unexpected Visitor**

As Varhog walked toward their hut, Willow alternated between eating some of the food and offering him some, continuing this pattern until it was gone. "I'm still hungry," she regretfully remarked.

"Aye," Varhog agreed. "I am too."

"But I'm so tired that I think I would prefer to go straight to sleep once we get home."

"Aye," he repeated. "I'm glad it's so cold out here. Otherwise I might fall asleep holding you. I didn't sleep at all that day I spent away." Their breath made puffs of steam as the snowflakes swirled around them.

They soon arrived at their hut, which was exactly as they had left it, the front door wide open. Snowflakes drifted inside. Varhog approached the door.

"Oops. I didn't even realize I forgot to close the door. I was terrified when we left . . . whenever that was. My sense of time is so off right now, with how much has happened in such a short period—" He abruptly stopped speaking and walking, and his nostrils flared as he caught a scent in the air near the entrance of the hut.

"What is it?" Willow asked in concern.

"There's an animal in there," Varhog quietly said, backing up a few steps. "A wolf, if I'm not mistaken."

Willow's brow creased in worry. "What do we do?"

"Wait, I suppose." Varhog set her down, gently forcing her behind him. "Stay back there. I don't want to hurt it, but I can kill it if I need to." He tensed as he caught sight of the unexpected visitor, feeling Willow peer around his arm, obviously too curious to remain oblivious.

A huge wolf slowly padded toward the door from inside, its yellow eyes gleaming in the darkness of the hut. It was as tall as Willow, and the top of its head only cleared the doorframe by about a foot as it passed through, its eyes locked on Varhog. Willow gripped the back of Varhog's shirt, and Varhog guessed she was worried thinking about him fighting the beast. Though either one of them could have immediately killed it with magic, they reverenced life too highly to even consider it, especially before knowing its intentions.

Varhog carefully reached a hand behind himself and around Willow's waist to keep her there. _Don't move, Willow,_ he warned, thinking of something his uncle had once shared with him of the time he had run with Firesword to the dwarf kingdom. Then, an enormous wolf—larger even than this one—had approached their camp. His uncle had prepared to fight, but Firesword had addressed the beast with words. His uncle hadn't understood them, but Varhog was sure Firesword had used the ancient language. After eating some of the food left from dinner, the wolf had peacefully left.

From the look in this wolf's eyes, it was hungry, and Varhog had no food to offer him, but he had to try. In the ancient tongue he said softly and without threat, "Brother Wolf, my mate and I wish to return in peace to our den. I will not harm you if you allow us to do this."

The wolf's eyes flashed toward where it had seen Willow, apparently thinking it could take her down, though it knew it stood no chance against Varhog. Varhog clearly understood its intent. "I will kill you and your whole pack, which I'm sure is near, if you try to harm her," he warned, deathly calm. "Do not doubt that I can. I am stronger and more capable than you think, and she is my mate. Though you will not triumph, I would die to protect her."

The wolf bared its huge yellow fangs, a low growl issuing from its maw. Varhog didn't want to fight or kill the noble beast or any of its pack that would run to assist him, so he tried once more. "If you leave us in peace, I will ensure that a great kill is delivered here for your pack to enjoy. It would be far more meat than you would get from her. I know food is harder to come by when winter arrives early."

The wolf turned as if to go, but Varhog wasn't fooled. He could see the animal's intelligence in its eyes. Though Varhog spoke the ancient language and the beast knew he could not lie, it seemed to doubt that Varhog was telling the full truth. The wolf must have believed that Varhog was somehow using words to deceive him so he wouldn't fight.

Varhog said to Willow, _Stay right next to me, Willow. He means to fight, and his pack is probably near. He knows he can't defeat me and intends to target you. They will try to separate us so they can get you unprotected. I will never allow it, but stay by my back. Hold my shirt if you need to. I won't use magic unless I have to. It wouldn't be fair to them, and I'm strong enough to subdue them with my hands. I hope they will surrender when they see that. There's a chance I can heal any injuries I'm forced to inflict._

 _I understand,_ Willow thought as the wolf loosed a terrifying snarl, turning back toward Varhog right before it would have been fully facing away from him.

As the wolf sprang through the air, its maw agape and aimed right at Varhog's throat, which wasn't much higher than the wolf's head, Varhog braced himself against the ground, leaning forward to absorb the impact of the wolf's huge bulk into his legs so he wouldn't stumble into Willow.

Varhog was in his fighting mind, and the wolf's intention was so clear to him that it was nothing for him to reach out, close his hands around the great jaws, and snap them shut. He maintained his grip, swinging the wolf around in the direction of the numerous howls that rent the air behind him. The rest of the pack was on its way now that the scout had located a meal and was in danger.

Willow stayed right behind Varhog, moving as he did. At exactly the moment when the wolf's bodily momentum tugged at his arms, Varhog hurled him into the nearest tree. There was a sickening crack as the wolf's body slammed into the trunk and slumped to the ground. The fearsome snarl faded into a whine of pain.

 _He's not dead,_ Varhog mechanically assured Willow, sensing her concern that her would-be killer was now gone. As a Dragon Rider, it was hard not to be concerned about even the smallest life, and this wolf was a magnificent beast. _I will heal him if he and the rest of the pack let me. I only want peace and your safety. I don't want to kill them, but they're on their way to fight me. I'm sorry, Eartheyes._

Willow shook her head, which Varhog felt against his back where her face was pressed. She didn't expect him to apologize, and he refocused his attention on the sounds indicating the arrival of the wolf pack.

Varhog was grateful that his calm, emotionless awareness of his environment gave him the ability to observe everything at once. Eight wolves simultaneously raced out of the trees, spreading quickly to surround Varhog, which forced him to turn to his right to keep the closest one from reaching Willow. He smacked its jaw sharply to the side, crushing its throat with a powerful blow. The wolf collapsed. Varhog just needed to cripple them long enough to subdue the pack, which would hopefully be quickly enough that he could heal any damage he inflicted.

Even as he was doing that with his right hand, he was aware of the others springing toward him. He thought to Willow, _I need to back up now!_ She swiftly moved back, and he did the same at the exact moment that four wolves would have landed on him. The other three were circling again. They were so fast, and Varhog was so outnumbered, but that didn't matter. He was more motivated than they were, no matter how hungry.

Varhog grabbed the nearest two by their necks and smashed their heads together. They both dropped instantly. One of the four retreated quickly enough to avoid his deadly hands, but another wasn't as fortunate. Varhog did the same to its throat as he had to the second, aware of that one convulsing near his feet.

Varhog had taken four of the newcomers down in about as many seconds. The fifth, who retreated after jumping toward him, hung back warily, but the other three were determined to move around him. Varhog reached behind himself, pinning Willow to his back with his hand—which was all the farther he could bend his muscular arm—since he needed to move more quickly than he had time to communicate. The wolves had nearly surrounded him and if he turned to face the three, the one that hung back would have direct access to Willow.

Varhog moved off to one side so he could attack the nearest wolf, which snarled fiercely. It had observed how quickly Varhog had incapacitated its pack with only his hands and decided to stay low, lunging forward in an attempt to hamstring him. Varhog anticipated the move, and just when the wolf thought he had him, Varhog shifted his weight to the other leg—the one the wolf wasn't aiming at—and turned, kicking the wolf's head with his foot. Varhog winced as he felt the skull give way under his boot, almost sure the blow had been fatal.

Varhog roared his frustration. He didn't want to kill them! But he had no time to mourn with the other three still on the loose. He sensed that one had gained too much ground in his hesitation, and Willow gasped, shifting slightly to one side. Varhog turned in the opposite direction—toward the threat—and his roar transformed into a bellow of rage as he slammed the wolf who had sprung at Willow into the tree behind them. Another sickening crack accompanied the impact, and the wolf slumped to the ground, whining in pain.

The other two now hung back warily, apparently convinced that Varhog could take them down as easily as the others.

Varhog shouted in the ancient language, "I will let you all go and heal those of your fallen brothers that I can if you will leave us in peace. I do not want to kill you, but if you attack again, I will do whatever it takes to protect my mate." Then he promised again, "I will have a great kill delivered for your pack if you leave us in peace."

The two standing wolves surrendered by sitting back on their haunches, their tongues lolling out and their eyes watchful.

"Stay by me," Varhog commanded Willow, dropping down next to the nearest wolf and beginning to mutter the words of healing.

-:-:-

Willow anxiously observed the bodies of the other fallen beasts, knowing that those whose throats had been crushed would soon be dead. "I can help you!" she cried. "They're almost gone!" Tears filled her eyes. She couldn't bear to sit idly by and watch the beautiful animals die, though they had meant to kill her.

"Please!" she begged Varhog when he denied her with a sharp shake of his head. "They won't try to kill me anymore. Besides, I could dodge them in time for you to get to me or even use magic."

Willow jumped up with an exclamation of impatience when Varhog again shook his head, darting to the side of the second wolf he had felled by crushing its throat. Its eyes were rolling in its head, its convulsions weak and hopeless. Willow had healed an injury such as this twice before, and she prayed that the structure of the beast's throat was similar enough that she could begin without studying it.

Placing her hands right in the animal's fur, she murmured the words of healing, empowering them with energy from her mind. Her gedwёy ignasia flared silvery-white and tears spilled onto her cheeks as Willow sensed her life—for she knew it was a female—slowly ebbing. Desperately, she willed the magic to take effect. It took a few seconds and new tremors gripped the wolf's body at the irritating sensation of having crushed tissue and bone knit back together, but it was soon enough. The beast took in a great shuddering breath, then another.

Willow wanted to search the animal's mind to ensure that damage had not been sustained during the prolonged lack of oxygen, but the other wolf whose throat Varhog had crushed was also in dire need. She crawled to its side and repeated the magic, though her energy was already dangerously diminished. But she didn't care. She couldn't let them die! Sunset's energy was suddenly filling her, keeping her from tumbling over the brink as the magic drained her of life. Her dragon and Black Thunder were swiftly approaching.

Willow was aware of Varhog moving over to heal the broken body of the first wolf—the one who had been in the hut—after he finished his first healing effort. The two dragons now joined them, landing with deafening booms of their wings. The wolves who had sustained no injuries whined in terror and shied back, apparently reluctant to abandon their pack but also fearful of the vast and intimidating new arrivals.

Willow soothingly said in the ancient language, "They won't harm you. They come only to help us heal your fallen comrades." She returned her attention to one of the wolves Varhog had bashed together. It wasn't dead but unconscious, with no other apparent injury.

Willow placed a hand on the deep brown fur of its head, sharing energy until its eyes fluttered and opened. The wolf looked at her in confusion, as if trying to understand the strange sight. Once it seemed to recall the situation that brought him there, Willow could have sworn his eyes took on an expression of gratitude. She was amazed to think that she could recognize emotions in the creature's intelligent eyes.

Willow did the same thing with the other unconscious wolf, this one an all-white female that slowly sat up as she regained awareness and strength. Willow was kneeling and when the wolf was sitting, its head was higher than her own. The wolf then lowered her face until the tip of her snout barely touched Willow's abdomen.

"How did you know I'm expecting?" Willow breathed in awe. The situation was so odd, but she couldn't deny how amazing it was. "I'm sorry my mate had to hurt you. He didn't want to, and he meant it when he promised we would have food brought for you. Our dragons will search until they find a meal for your pack." The wolf's eyes showed her understanding, and Willow wondered if she could read them so well because she was so used to Varhog's yellow eyes.

The wolf lifted her snout enough to touch her wet nose to Willow's forehead. Then she let her long tongue roll out, licking once all the way up Willow's face. Willow flinched back in surprise, laughing as she wiped the saliva off her face. She turned to Varhog with wonder in her eyes.

He was crouching tensely by the side of the wolf whose head he had kicked, clearly prepared to spring to her defense should the situation turn. Willow could see the open astonishment on his face that she and the wolf seemed perfectly capable of understanding one another.

Willow turned and bid the wolf goodbye, stroking the side of its jaw. Then she crawled over to Varhog. "Did this one make it?"

Varhog's eyes filled with regret. "He's not dead, but his skull is crushed. From what I can tell, his brain seems to have withstood serious damage, but blood is pooling and he is fading. I need your help. You know the healing art better."

Willow nodded, gingerly placing her hands over the wolf's deformed skull. She remembered Arya's words in Ilirea and tried to trust that Blödhgarm's praise had been sincere. Using her mind to assess the damage, she immediately observed the blood, its vibrant energy outshining the more muted light of the bone. The blood angrily pulsed and throbbed, come to help at the site of the severe trauma, but unable to do much because of the damage to the surrounding blood vessels and the hopeless mess of the wolf's skull.

"Lend me your energy," Willow firmly said. "This is extensive. I'm not sure I can do it but I'm going to try." Willow was barely aware that the other eight beasts had grouped themselves back together and were cautiously watching her. They seemed to sense the pain of the last wolf as if joined by some kind of mental link, which wasn't difficult for either Rider to imagine.

Willow felt the dragons adding their energy to Varhog's since his was also significantly drained from his exhaustion, the fighting, and the magic he had performed. She didn't really even know where to begin, but it seemed like she needed to give the blood a way to escape the trap of the wolf's skull or the brain would begin to suffer damage. So she started farthest away from the worst of the mutilation and began carefully mending delicate blood vessels and tissue.

The process was slow and painstaking, and Willow felt the immense strain as her tremendous exhaustion only increased. When she arrived at the mess of the bone, she was overwhelmed, knowing she was far from being finished. Was it worth it? The beasts had attacked after fair warning, and their purpose had been to kill her. Why was she now showing them mercy? Willow knew why. Because they had attacked out of instinct, their need for food as strong as her own, as strong as Varhog's instinct to protect her. It was all part of the circle of life, but if it was within her power to prevent the unnecessary death of this creature, who had an existence as meaningful to him as hers was to her, Willow would do it.

She relied on the fragments of bone to understand where they fit within the greater structure, not knowing and not having the strength to determine at that moment. She simply provided them with the ability to greatly accelerate the healing that would have taken place had this injury been able to heal naturally, which never would have happened, as serious as it was. The bone seemed to understand her desire and took advantage of the time she was giving it to speed the healing process. The blood was finally able to fulfill its purpose, bringing vital nutrients necessary for the regrowth of the bone and removing the resultant waste.

Willow wasn't sure how long it took, but it seemed like an eternity and she felt even the dragons tiring. After one final exam to ensure that she hadn't missed anything serious, she ended her effort and slumped onto the wolf's body, where she was grateful to hear his strong heartbeat.

-:-:-

Varhog pulled Willow into his arms, and her head drooped against his chest. "You did it," he told her as the wolf shuddered, stretching and raising himself.

The wolf blinked, solemnly regarding Willow. Then he reached his head forward until his great snout rested against her cheek. Varhog held his breath as the wolf closed its eyes, its face mere inches from his own. Then Varhog felt energy flowing from the wolf into Willow and understood that the wolf was repaying her for saving his life.

Varhog was stunned. The wolf withdrew and looked at him. What was that in his eyes? Forgiveness? Understanding? Willow would know. At the very least, Varhog knew the wolf was not his enemy and wouldn't attack him again, then or ever.

The other wolves approached and repeated the gesture to Willow. After the first three, Willow was strong enough to hold her head up and watch the rest of them. By the end, tears were streaming down her face.

When they were done, she whispered, "Thank you. I'm glad I could meet you." As they began to slowly return to the forest, Willow raised her voice, reminding them, "Come back tomorrow for your meal!"

Varhog looked at her in amazement. "You're a wonder, Willow," he reverently said.

"That was unbelievable," she agreed, placing a hand on his cheek and randomly asking, "Do Urgals not grow facial hair, Varhog, or do you just remove it?"

Varhog blinked, nonplussed by the arbitrary thought. "No, we don't. Just the bristles on our hide and our hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes."

"What of the females? Myrin didn't have bristles."

"No. They grow softer hair around the groin, some under their arms, and on their legs and arms. It's much finer and softer than the rams' bristles, though not as soft as yours. But none on their torsos. I always imagined it was for the babies' sakes."

Willow nodded, apparently satisfied. "Sorry. I know that was random. I've just always wondered, and as odd as that situation with the wolves was, I asked now. And though they helped me recover, I'm so tired. _So_ tired. And hungry, but that's going to need to wait. Can we sleep?"

Varhog nodded, standing to retrieve her blanket and dress from where they had fallen to the ground. He returned to Willow, carefully lifting her and carrying her into the hut, which was freezing inside since the door had been open for two days. Varhog closed the door and used magic to start a fire in the hearth before retrieving an extra blanket from the hall closet and walking with Willow to the bedroom. He left this door open so heat from the fire could make its way back once the front room was warm.

He set Willow down on the bed, and she immediately pulled off her boots. The bedclothes were still thrown aside from when Willow had left them, and there was a dark brown stain on the sheets where her blood had dried. Varhog didn't have the strength to worry about it right then, but he absently wondered if the smell had attracted the wolf. Willow scooted back as Varhog shook out the blankets, brushing dirt off one and unfolding the other.

After removing his boots, Varhog joined Willow on the bed, grateful he could sleep with her under the covers for the first time. They needed each other to stay warm. She snuggled next to his side and closed her eyes while he situated himself, lying back on the pillows and pulling all of the blankets up to her neck. Then he put his arms around her under the covers, already feeling warmer. Willow sighed deeply and was asleep, which was all Varhog noticed before he too succumbed to exhaustion.


	40. Mealtime

**40\. Mealtime**

Willow and Varhog slept for twenty solid hours, just as Willow had predicted they might. And when her eyes snapped open, all she could think about was food. She was starving. Ravenous. But she didn't want to leave the warm comfort of Varhog's arms. As far as she could tell, neither one of them had moved significantly during their long slumber.

When she glanced toward the window and saw that it was light, Willow thought maybe only a few hours had passed. But that couldn't be right because she felt so rested. And _so hungry!_ The air around her also felt warmer, which meant the fire in the front room had warmed the whole hut.

 _Sunset?_ Willow thought, hoping her dragon had picked up enough of what had transpired with the wolves to gather that she needed to go hunt and bring back some kind of meal for the wolves. The wolves. Had that been a dream? It seemed so surreal.

Her dragon replied, _Sunshine. I am here._

 _How long has it been since I came in here with Varhog?_ Willow asked.

 _Almost a whole day, sunshine. It is now midday. The wolves returned as you directed. Black Thunder and I each brought them a great elk, and they seem most grateful that you saved most of their pack and provided them with such a ready meal. I would imagine that you have yourself some loyal guardians._

Willow laughed, which woke up Varhog. "Sorry," she said, a guilty look on her face. "Sunset just told me that the wolves seem loyal to me. If I ever _do_ have to go to battle, I will be a formidable foe. Hundreds of fighting Urgralgra rams around me and packs of wolves. Let's hope it never comes to that." She grinned, and her stomach rumbled painfully.

Varhog smiled in return, stretching mightily, and Willow closed her eyes at the feel of his powerful muscles flexing underneath her. It reminded her too much of other activities. She abruptly sat.

"I have to get out of this bed. Now that I'm not dead on my feet, I'm ravenous. And feeling you move like that. . . . I'm glad we slept so long. We barely have any more time to wait before this blasted treatment will be finished. But until then, there had better be enough food in this hut to fill me up, or I'm going to join the wolves and pick scraps of meat off the elk until their bones are bare."

Varhog raised his eyebrows at her fierce manner, obviously having no desire to stand between Willow and her objective. He also sat, swinging his legs over the side of the bed so they wouldn't be blocking her exit.

Willow scooted over and jumped up, but not before giving him a quick peck on his cheek. She smiled and reached for his hand. "Come on," she urged.

Varhog stood and went with her to the kitchen. Willow picked up the bread he had made the evening she discovered they were having twins.

"Look how dry and hard this is," she mourned. "Maybe we can make some broth or soup to soften it with."

There were fruits and vegetables on the counter, along with some of the ready-to-eat food from their saddlebags. Willow grabbed an apple and started devouring it as she moved around the kitchen with swift efficiency, readying ingredients for several different projects so she wouldn't be caught unprepared like this again.

"What can I do?" Varhog anxiously asked. They had both contributed to meal prep and cleanup for years on the Isle, and they often worked together since they were such close friends. "I'm worried I'll just get in your way. I've never seen such a look of focused determination on your face while in the kitchen."

Willow smiled, directing, "Fill that pot with water and cook these beans and grains in it. Then prepare some of those vegetables for a soup. I need something filling with protein, and we need to use magic to speed the process. The babies are eating me alive!" She grabbed a carrot and ate it as quickly as the apple.

Varhog took the jug for drinking water and the pot, heading outside to fill them at the well. When he returned, Willow felt him using magic to heat the water in the pot.

"It snowed a lot while we were sleeping," Varhog informed her, stomping his boots off after closing the door. He walked to the counter, put all of the beans and grains into the water, and added several seasonings. Then he took the pot to the fire and hung it over the flames, fanning them with magic. The water was boiling in seconds.

Varhog returned to the kitchen and began chopping vegetables. Willow was now eating raw nuts and kneading some bread dough, which she had already prepared to that stage.

"Can I add some meat to this soup?" Varhog asked. "My body needs it now. Our wedding feast was the last time I had any, and I can tell it's time for more."

"Of course," Willow said after swallowing a mouthful of nuts. "Maybe the wolves will let you take some from the elk, if there's any left. I don't want you to have to go hunt right now. You can have any that ends up in my bowl." She grabbed the jug with drinking water and drank straight out of it, too thirsty to bother with a cup. It dripped out one side of her mouth, and she wiped it off with the back of her sleeve after she finished, grinning at him.

"Sorry. Now that I've taken the edge off my appetite, I think I can be more ladylike."

Varhog looked up and smiled. "It doesn't bother me, Eartheyes. I like it when you're a beast like me." He chuckled as she elbowed him.

"Not beastly enough to eat meat," Willow teased, though it actually didn't bother her in the slightest. She knew Varhog needed meat in a way she didn't, but she wondered if she might also need some to sustain her pregnancy through the winter when fresh plants were not as easy to come by, at least here in the mountains. She felt a momentary pang of homesickness for the Isle, where fresh plants grew year-round in an astonishing variety.

Willow opened a cupboard and began sorting through the array of bottled fruits and vegetables. "I was thrilled to find all of this that first day you went flying with Black Thunder. If we spend much more time here before returning to the Isle, it will help to have plants in some form. I want to try some of this jam with the fresh bread. And we should put some of these tomatoes in the soup. We can also let the broth soften that dry bread so it doesn't go to waste."

Varhog shook his head in agreement. They had both learned on the Isle not to waste food. He took all of the chopped vegetables and added them to the soup. "I'm going to check on that meat. It looked like there was plenty, though it might be best if you make the request."

"Then I'll come with you," Willow offered. "But let me put this bread in to bake. I cheated and helped it rise with magic. I did it right whenever I made it last week, so I'll forgive myself this once." She smiled at Varhog as he walked into the kitchen and retrieved a sharp knife and bowl.

"I want to be prepared in case the wolves don't mind sharing," he explained.

Before opening the door, Varhog set down the bowl and knife on the nearby chair and said, "Let me grab our cloaks."

He quickly returned from the bedroom with the cloaks, first helping Willow into hers. Varhog then wrapped his around his shoulders, drawing up the hood as Willow did the same. Their cloaks matched their dragons, something they had decided together years earlier, liking the idea for some reason.

Varhog complimented, "You look ravishing in that color, Eartheyes. I've always wanted to tell you that but never knew what you would think before."

Willow smiled. "Thank you, Yelloweyes. And you look as striking as ever in all black. Our dragons must have known their colors would complement our good looks." She laughed as they stepped outside.

The world was peaceful and silent, as was always the case after a snowfall. Large flakes still tumbled lazily from the sky. Twelve wolves—apparently the whole pack hadn't been hunting, though Willow recognized the nine who had attacked the previous day—were off to their right in the direction of the trees, surrounding two large carcasses. The snow all around the dead animals was bloody and spoiled with tracks. Varhog hung back while Willow approached the stunning all-white female with whom she had communicated the most.

The wolves, including the three new ones, all respectfully regarded Willow as she crouched down not far from the white female and said in the ancient language, "My mate requires meat to sustain his body, as you do. Is there enough here that you would share? I don't want him to have to hunt now, and he won't require much. He would even be willing to break open the ribs so you can reach the tender organs inside." She added the last bit when she noticed that the wolves had tried to reach in through the opening of the ribcage but hadn't made it far. From what Willow could see, though she tried not to look at the carnage for long, Varhog would be able to get enough meat from what remained on the legs.

As if on some unspoken cue, all of the wolves backed away from their meal, looking at Willow expectantly to show their approval of her request. Some of them sat, licking their chops and their paws as they waited.

The handsome gray wolf whose skull had been crushed boldly approached Willow and rested his head in her lap. She knelt under the weight, grateful for the protective barrier of her cloak between her legs and the snow. The wolf's eyes looked so gentle and trusting. She stroked the thick fur between his ears, and a contented growl rumbled in his chest. It reminded her of Varhog, and she giggled. The wolf licked the hand resting in her lap.

Varhog glanced at her in amazement as he slowly approached the carcasses. Since he had almost singlehandedly wiped out their pack, he was obviously mindful that the wolves perceived him as more of a threat than Willow. They regarded him warily, clearly aware of the danger and also that he now meant them no harm. The first thing he did was break open the ribcage of each animal with a powerful stomp of his foot on the sternum. The strong bones split right in half, and Varhog used his hands to carefully pry them open even further.

Willow was impressed by his massive brute strength. He rarely ever used all of it at once, but she could see that he was now, and it made the work he was doing seem effortless. He also broke the front and back hips by jerking sharply on the legs and split the head open wide by tearing apart the jaws. Willow shuddered a little at how easy it seemed for him. His hands were so deadly when he wanted them to be, but she knew his intention was simply to make the wolves' job of cleaning the carcasses as easy as possible. Now there would be no bones to prevent them from reaching soft innards.

When that job was done, Varhog swiftly skinned the haunch of one animal that had remained mostly untouched by the wolves, as it had been on the underside of the body where they hadn't yet been able to reach. He cut off what looked like a huge amount of meat to Willow, though she knew his hunger must be intense and his body's need for the flesh honest. He probably also knew he wouldn't eat more again for some time. On the Isle he usually only consumed animal flesh about once a week, and then about one meal to fill him was all he allowed himself, though she guessed that was probably less than he desired.

When Varhog left the carcasses, the gray wolf lifted his head out of Willow's lap and licked her cheek. She patted him once more as she stood to join Varhog, saying, "I'm glad you're better." The wolf's eyes showed his gratitude.

"I'll wash my hands after I've prepared this further," Varhog said. "But I can do that inside so you don't get cold." He turned back to the wolves. "Thank you, brothers . . . and sisters," he added, apparently deciding that was more appropriate. "I appreciate you sharing this meat with me and leaving us in peace. May this meal sustain you through many long weeks."

As they returned to the hut, Willow glanced over at the dragons, who were huddled together some yards off to the left of the hut—opposite the wolves—in a spot they had melted and warmed with their flames, as the scorch marks on the ground clearly indicated. Black Thunder had a great wing over Sunset's smaller body, where she nestled next to his warm belly. Willow smiled at how like she and Varhog it was, especially in their cloaks just then.

Willow thought to them, _Thank you both for bringing that and helping us keep our word._

Sunset breathed a small stream of flames toward her, which only extended a dozen feet from her jaws, but Willow felt the warmth. _You are welcome, sunshine. It is my pleasure to help some fellow carnivores as long as they do not threaten you again._ Willow laughed.

Varhog transferred the bowl to his bloodiest hand, carefully opening the door for Willow so he wouldn't get the handle dirty. He waited for her to enter then followed her and closed the door.

Once inside, Willow tended the soup, adding more seasonings and a jar of the bottled tomatoes while Varhog cut the meat. When it smelled done, she pulled the bread from the small wood-burning oven she had always heated with magic, and Varhog transferred the meat to the stew.

"It will be done in a few minutes, when that is cooked," he informed.

"Perfect," Willow replied. "Will you please crumble that dry bread? Oh, here let me help you," she amended, noticing him washing his hands. She went and poured water over them while he scrubbed with soap, pausing her effort to give him a chance to work up a good lather and clean under his fingernails.

"Thank you," Varhog said with a smile as she poured once more when he seemed ready.

"My pleasure, sweetheart," Willow easily said, loving how it again felt like they were a family. Varhog dried his hands and, before completing her request, wrapped her in a tight embrace.

"I love you," Varhog whispered, kissing the top of her head. "There were so many times in the kitchen on the Isle when I wished I could have done this. Especially that day we were talking about what we wanted in a mate. You seemed to notice that everything I said perfectly described you. And when I said I had never thought about taking a mate before, I meant before I met you."

"That's how it seemed to me," Willow said, looking up at him. "But the thought that we might ever be more than friends had never entered my mind. I was so surprised when I realized that you're everything I ever wanted in a husband and so much more." She smiled blissfully, and he leaned down to kiss her smiling lips.

"Good thing I'm so hungry," she commented. "Takes my mind off forbidden things. I love you too, Yelloweyes."

Varhog reluctantly released her, grabbed a clean bowl, and broke the rock hard bread into smaller chunks. Willow set the food, some utensils, and glasses with water on the table while Varhog took two bowls to the pot, ladling soup into them until they were full.

"Did I forget anything?" Willow asked, glancing over the table and into the kitchen.

"Doesn't look like it," Varhog answered, setting the two bowls down as he reached her side. "I'll grab anything we might think of. You sit here so I can be closest to the kitchen." He pulled out her chair.

"Why thank you, kind sir," Willow cheerfully gushed.

Varhog bowed in teasing gallantry. "You're welcome, my lady," he joked along with her, also sitting. As Willow reached for the dry bread, Varhog bowed his head and was silent for a moment before opening his eyes and also taking some of the hard bread.

"What were you doing?" Willow curiously asked.

"Praying to Rahna, She of the Gilded Horns."

"What did you say?"

Varhog shrugged. "'Honored Mother, thank you for this meal and the beasts who gave their lives so I can partake of their flesh. Thank you for Willow and that she is healthy. Thank you for our babies and that they are well.'"

Willow smiled, touched. "May I say it next time?" she requested.

"Certainly," Varhog replied, and they began eating.

"Mmm," Willow approved with her mouth full. Before swallowing, she mumbled, "The soup is so good, Varhog. Well done."

"You helped," he dismissed. "It's perfect with the bread soaking up the extra broth, just as you thought."

Willow nodded and ate eagerly for several minutes, adding meat to his bowl from hers as she came across it. After a time she said, "You know, Nar Garzhvog shared the story of Rahna and how she came to be your Holy Mother around the bonfire the night you were gone."

"Really?" Varhog replied. "I haven't heard that one in some time. It was always one of my favorites. Maybe that's why I was drawn to a beautiful human woman with shining hair." He smiled at her. "Why did he tell that story? It's one of our most sacred legends."

"Angela asked him if there were any stories that explained why the Urgralgra appeared to resemble both humans and beasts. He said there was a legend and told it."

Varhog ate for a few minutes before thoughtfully responding, "I can see why _that_ story would have been relevant to Mooneater's objective. I never thought of that when she explained her purpose, but now I can see why knowing what happened to a human woman who had a child with her mate of a different species would prove valuable to Firesword and Arya. It makes me wonder what to expect—if anything—at the birth of their child. Or even ours, for that matter. There _are_ some striking similarities, aren't there? Between Rahna and her mate and you and me?"

"Yes," Willow agreed. "I thought the same thing that night. All the way down to the twins. So you truly believe all of it happened, even the heavenly being part? Isn't some of it just legend?"

"We believe, Willow," Varhog said. "The Urgralgra believe in higher powers and that there is a divine power that organizes life and the earth. Why couldn't a representative from that realm visit this one?"

"I guess it would be possible if those were your beliefs," Willow allowed. "I have never given it much thought, though becoming pregnant has given me more cause to than ever before. I never thought there could be a god if he or she took my mother, brother, and father away from me. I didn't understand why a loving being would do that to an innocent girl, so it seemed more likely that it was a cynical being who delighted in torturing the hapless, helpless mortals who lived like pawns below."

"I can see why you would feel that way," Varhog compassionately said. "When we believe that they _do_ everything to us, it's easy to get angry. But I believe they gave us our intelligence and agency and let us live without interference so we can make choices, learn, and gain wisdom. In the case of your family dying, though it must have seemed a cruel and unjust punishment at the time, can you also now see how it has shaped you into the person you are, preparing you for your calling as a Rider like no other set of circumstances could have? I believe we endure trials to strengthen our faith and our character. _They_ can see the beginning from the end, They are wiser, and They know what we need, though it might seem the exact opposite of what _we_ think we need. If we knew all they do, there would be no point to having faith. When you have a perfect knowledge of something, it no longer requires faith to believe it. You simply know. We can't know all the answers right now if we are to continue striving in faith."

"How very wise," Willow pensively remarked. "I can see what you mean. Sunset hatched for me right before my father died, so I wasn't completely alone. Becoming a Rider was like joining a family full of brothers. Murtagh and Sunset helped me make it through losing him. Then hearing your voice so soon after his death also seems like a tender mercy sent to carry me through just a little longer. You might make a believer out of me yet, Yelloweyes."

"And you coming to the Isle," Varhog continued. "That was a blessing in so many ways that none of us could have ever anticipated. Someone or something knew the Riders would most likely fall apart if we didn't have the unique influence of a female. But not just any female. We needed the singularly unique female—you—who could help us all in the exact ways we needed. You helped me and Knilf overcome our differences, and you helped ease the pain Murtagh and Firesword felt at missing the women they loved. You were the silly little sister they needed to lighten their hearts and bring humor back to their lives. You provided just the right female touch to keep us all from killing each other due to the overpowering male influences."

Willow smiled at him. "That's so sweet," she said. "I always thought Sunset must have seen something in me that I couldn't see in myself. Maybe she was aware of the mood on the Isle and knew she must intervene before all was lost. Hearing you mention Knilf reminded me. How do you think he'll react when we return, married and with me most likely ready to pop with our babies?"

Varhog chuckled. "He will be happy, Willow. He knew how I felt about you. Anyone with two eyes and two ears—except your two eyes and ears—knew I loved you for many years. Though he may resent the fact that we went and did it all behind his back. I wonder how they're all doing back there. We have been gone some time, and we mean to stay away quite a while longer."

"Yes! Soon I suppose we'll visit Roran and Katrina. Her baby is almost due, if I remember right from what Eragon said. And I would imagine we'll also make a trip to Ellesméra. I wonder how Hanin's doing. And Maehrí. I'm so glad we have another female Rider. There's no end to the good we female Riders have brought to the males, what with Arya's return and my invaluable contribution." She said the last with a self-righteous, teasing air. "We should scry them and find out. Tomath is probably missing his 'mother.'"

"That's a good idea," Varhog agreed. "We were gone all last week, so Firesword may have already been in contact with them. Hanin did say he would scry again two weeks after that day in Ilirea, and it has probably been about that long. So much has happened that it feels like we were in Ilirea years ago."

"Mmmm," Willow mumbled, her mouth once again full after taking a huge bite from a slice of the fresh bread slathered in jam. She set her piece down and prepared one for Varhog. When her mouth was free, she said, "You have to try this. Strawberry jam is my favorite. Did mother make it?"

Varhog accepted the bread from her. Before tasting it, he answered, "Or any of my sisters. They all learned from her. Trayin and Breetuk probably help her the most with the bottling and preserving, since they're the only two without mates. But all the women get together and work on it in the fall at harvest time." He took a bite and made his own sound of approval. "The bread is amazing too," he complimented.

Willow smiled. "Thank you. You taught me, if you remember. I was so surprised when I first learned you knew how to make bread."

Varhog grinned. "Any ram with a good mother—which is all of us—learns his way in the kitchen. She doesn't allow anything less, to ensure her sons are prepared to help their mates in all the ways he can."

"I love it here, Varhog," Willow confessed. "I could stay here forever. I wish we could have our babies here."

"When are they due to be born?" he wondered. "I'm guessing you already have that figured out."

"Yes," she immediately confirmed. "Beginning of the summer."

"Well, if we have already returned to the Isle before then, maybe we can come back here for the birth," Varhog suggested. "I would also like for you to have the help of my mother and sisters, especially with two being born at once. I will obviously be there, but there's so much I don't know. They would know what to do in any circumstance."

"If I can somehow convince Arya and Eragon to come too, then that's what I want," Willow agreed. She looked at the table and her empty bowl, which she had already cleaned of her second serving. "I think I've finally eaten my fill. It feels wonderful. How about you?"

"I need more," Varhog said, moving to refill his bowl. Willow arose and quickly tidied the kitchen while he continued eating.

When done with that, Willow went to the hall closet and found spare sheets. "I'm going to go change the bedclothes," she announced before heading to the bedroom.

Not long after, Willow came back to the room carrying the bloodstained sheets, and she noticed how much progress Varhog had made in her absence. "You didn't let on of how voracious your appetite was," Willow commented, "though I shouldn't be surprised. Eat all the fresh bread too, if you want. In fact, just finish everything. We can always make more, and then we won't have to put any food away."

Varhog smiled at her gratefully. "Thank you, Eartheyes. I didn't eat at all the day I was gone and I ran a _long_ way before getting on Black Thunder. The food we ate during yesterday's breakfast at Arya and Firesword's wasn't nearly enough to make up for a full day of fasting, especially since I fought the wolves and we slept almost a whole day. This food is so fresh and delicious that I just can't help myself."

"Eat your fill," Willow insisted. "I want to fight when you're done."

Varhog raised his eyebrows. "I thought you were done making war," he said in amusement.

"Yes, I did too, but I never anticipated that we wouldn't be able to make love," Willow countered. "I have to do _something_ with you to feel your body that doesn't make me crazy. Though it might anyway. But at least it will fill the time until we can return to Arya for her final assessment, which thankfully isn't much longer."

"Won't you get cold out there?"

"Not if you keep me busy enough," Willow said, her eyes sparkling merrily. "I'm going to clean these sheets while you finish."

When she came out of the washroom, Willow saw that Varhog had dutifully polished off every last crumb, and he was now clearing the table. She helped him quickly wash the dishes.

"I'm ready," he informed her, happily patting his belly. "That feels so much better. Though I don't have two babies growing inside of me, I think I know what you meant when you said they were eating you alive. My stomach was doing the same to me. Shall we begin?"

"Almost," she said. "First help me get more bread started. It can rise the slow way while we fight, then we'll have more right after it bakes if we want it."

"Gladly," he said, reaching for ingredients. It only took a few minutes to mix and knead the dough. Then they shaped the loaves and covered them with a cloth before washing their hands.

"Do you want to start with our cloaks on?" Varhog asked. "It's quite cold and still snowing."

Willow shook her head. "I have my coat on. Just keep me hopping," she teased.

Varhog again opened the door for her and followed her out.

* * *

 **A/N:** At the very end of the following chapter (after the last -:-:-) you will find a brief mature love scene.


	41. Thrill of Battle

**41\. Thrill of Battle**

The wolves were still there, and they looked up in interest as Willow and Varhog reemerged. The dragons also watched. Willow and Varhog faced each other in the clearing that the two groups unintentionally formed between themselves. Willow smiled mockingly, as she had when facing Yarbog, and began casually sweeping her hair up into a knot to keep it out of her face.

Varhog lunged for her. Willow didn't budge, and he caught her with an exclamation of surprise as she laughed with her face against his chest.

"I thought you were goading me," he admitted. "I was sure you would sidestep me as easily as you always do. Leave it down," he finished, referring to her hair. "Please. I love the way it swirls around you when you move."

Her arms were still up—she hadn't been able to lower them, trapped as she was—so Willow released her hair, shaking it out with a flirtatious flip of her head. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him a moment. "I'm going to make love and war," she warned in a dangerous voice, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"That should keep things interesting," Varhog allowed, returning her kiss before releasing her.

Willow entered her fighting mind, but only enough that she could dodge him when she wanted and still express emotion. Varhog lunged again, and she gracefully spun away, staying close enough to trail her fingers up his arm as he flew past her. He stopped himself, swinging for her. She ducked, shifting slightly and standing up right in front of him, whereupon he once again trapped her. Willow wrapped her arms around his waist, her face once more pressed into his chest, breathing deeply to smell him and listening to his heart pound. She gazed up at him, smiling coyly as he regarded her in exasperation.

"It's frustrating to know I can only do that when you _let_ me," Varhog observed.

"Mm-hmm," Willow agreed. "But it should make you feel better that I am your willing prisoner until you see fit to release me. There's nothing I can do to escape your impossible strength once I'm lucky enough to be captive in your arms." She laughed, low and throaty, and Varhog seemed to decide that was a good moment to release her, before she provoked him even more.

Willow backed away, an inviting smile on her lips, and Varhog sprang forward once more. She danced even farther away, circling slightly so she wouldn't take them too near the wolves, who were attentively regarding the match, perhaps realizing that the human female wasn't as helpless as she appeared.

When Varhog next lunged, Willow caught his hand and spun herself into his arms as if he were performing a graceful dance maneuver. She ended with her back to his chest, and he grunted in surprise at her sudden location, still recovering from his attempt to catch her, which had been successful—just not as he expected. She began swaying back and forth as if they really were dancing, looking up over her shoulder at him.

"Nice move," she softly teased.

"You're making me crazy, Eartheyes," Varhog said, a tight grin on his face at her brash behavior.

"Hmm?" She widened her eyes in feigned innocence. "Me?" Then she laughed. "That's good, Yelloweyes. That's the whole idea." Varhog wasn't holding onto her and she spun away before he realized his mistake. He futilely reached after her, growling in frustration. She laughed at him to spur him on.

Varhog tried hard for the next little while, clearly intent on catching her when she didn't expect it. Willow sensed his shift to seriousness, so she also got more serious, though the teasing smile never left her face as she dodged him time and again.

After about fifteen minutes, they were sweating profusely in spite of the cold and snow. Willow continued her easy evasions, beginning at the same time to casually unbutton her coat. "It has gotten quite hot, don't you think?" she offhandedly commented, though her eyes revealed her true intention. She knew perfectly well that undressing in front of Varhog would stimulate him all the more.

"Eartheyes," Varhog warned.

"Why don't you take yours off too?" Willow invited, giving him another provocative smile as she reached the last button and shrugged out of the coat. "Getting some cool air might take the edge off your overheated state." She tossed her coat toward the door, and Varhog lunged, apparently hoping he would catch her in a moment of distraction. But Willow neatly stepped away just in time, right when he thought he had her, laughing delightedly at his frustration.

Now she was in her undershirt. She could see that Varhog hadn't expected her to have that on underneath and that he was somewhat relieved. With her arms down, an inch of her waist showed under the hem, so she stretched to increase the amount of revealed skin, twisting her body so her muscles would flex.

The shirt was sleeveless and had a high swoop around her neck. Unlike her lavender dress, it fully covered her chest, tightly hugging her bosom with a supportive layer of material. Though Willow was hot from their exercise, the cold still revealed the obvious curves of her breasts, and she laughed at Varhog's expression, savoring the fact that just seeing her made him want her.

Varhog lunged again, clearly desperate to close her in his arms so he wouldn't have to endure the temptation of her appearance, but Willow nimbly danced away.

"Why don't you just catch me, Yelloweyes?" she recklessly challenged.

Varhog growled and sprang for her.

Willow dodged before doing something she never had before, gaining inspiration from the previous day's fight with the wolves. She stepped right behind Varhog, mirroring his every move while holding onto his shirt as he twisted to reach for her. When he swung one arm around, she shifted to his other side so he couldn't reach. She laughed as he swiped and never caught her.

Willow yanked his shirt out of his pants, reaching her hands under it and wrapping her arms around to his chest, where she massaged for a moment. Varhog grunted in enjoyment and exasperation, trying to grasp her arms. But his shirt prevented him from getting a good grip and Willow removed her arms, backing away from him again.

As Varhog spun around to face her, Willow swirled her hair up off her neck, holding it to her head so her arms would flex and her waist would be exposed again. "You're going to have to do better than that," she playfully admonished.

Varhog roared in frustration, lunging for her in his most aggressive effort yet. When Willow _finally_ let him catch her, releasing her hair at the same time so it would tumble all around him, he bowled her over, almost landing on her.

Varhog caught himself with one arm, holding her away from the ground with the other. She had wrapped her arms around his neck the moment she dropped her hair, and she held onto him with her face inches from his. A strand of hair stretched across it.

"See? All it took was a little determination," she slyly said, leaning forward to kiss him before pulling back. "I can see you need some more help with that shirt."

Since Varhog was holding her up with one arm, she released his neck, dragging her hands slowly around to the front of his body where she loosened the laces of his shirt until the gap at the top was completely open. Then she carelessly slid her hand through her hair to draw the strand off her face, opening her mouth in a sultry expression.

"Why do you delight in torturing me?" Varhog demanded in exasperation.

"I'm _testing_ you, Yelloweyes," Willow purred, reaching forward again to languidly kiss his bare skin. "Remember, I _can't_ leave until _you_ let me." She murmured appreciatively, knowing it would drive him crazy, extending her tongue to taste the hollow of his neck and along his collarbone.

Varhog shuddered, and Willow warned, "I'm going to extend the test to my hands unless you let me go."

"That's blackmail!" Varhog accused.

"I'm using the only weapons at my disposal, sweetheart," Willow countered. "You could crush me in a heartbeat. I have to use kisses and caresses to bring you down." She then wrapped her legs around his waist, which wasn't hard to do, as he was holding his body in a straight line, supported on his feet and one hand.

Varhog huffed, "It's working pathetically well. I am completely at your mercy, whether you're in my arms or out of them."

Willow laughed triumphantly. "If you don't want it to end, keep me here," she hopefully invited, moving her hands down his body. Varhog must have sensed where she was headed because he abruptly put his knees down, sitting back over his ankles and letting her go at the same time so she sat on his lap.

Willow pouted in mock disappointment, though she was actually enjoying herself immensely. "I'll get that shirt off you yet," she promised, springing up and backing away a few paces.

But Varhog refused to give her the opportunity, for he jumped up and tore it off over his head, throwing it toward her coat. He flexed his muscles—all of the striations rippled and stood out in relief—bellowing loudly in an effort to relieve some of the unbearable tension she had provoked.

He was terrifying, but Willow wasn't afraid. She laughed wildly, feeling so powerful—she could avoid him as long as she wanted and still force him into submission when trapped in his arms. The next time Varhog lunged, she easily jumped on his back—which took him by surprise—assuming her stranglehold only momentarily before sliding her knees down and wrapping her legs around his body. She loosened her arms and began to run her fingers through his hair, scratching gently with her fingernails.

At this precise time, Sunset, who had been watching in amusement with Black Thunder, suddenly entered their minds with the welcome words, _Arya wants me to tell you that the time for the treatment is over and you may go to their hut so she can check that it was successful._

Without further ado, Varhog began running as swiftly as he could toward Eragon and Arya's hut. Willow loosely held on around his neck, gently kissing the back of his neck in small circles.

"You seem intent on killing me," Varhog forced out in a strained voice. Willow only laughed, never stilling the movement of her lips.

When they reached the familiar hut, Willow jumped down and strode toward the door, yanking a section of her hair over each shoulder to hide her chest and grinning back over her shoulder as she did. Varhog started pacing.

Willow reached up, knocking firmly on the door, which Arya opened.

"That was fast. Oh, I can see why," she added as she caught sight of Willow's face and Varhog's pacing. "Well, come in right here. I can perform the test quickly."

As Arya backed up so Willow could step inside, her surprise at Willow's expression was obvious. Eragon was sitting on the sofa, and he greeted Willow as any gentleman would. Her eyes flashed to his face then promptly away as he recognized her look of passion.

Eragon raised his eyebrows as Willow muttered, "Sorry, brother," in mortified awkwardness. Outside, Varhog laughed, and Willow clenched her hands into fists.

"You had best hurry, my love," Eragon prompted Arya with an understanding laugh. "Put them out of their misery. What have you two been doing, anyway? You appear to be quite riled up."

"Fighting," Willow tersely replied in an undertone she knew they would hear, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor. The tension in the muscles of her abdomen, back, and arms was complete, and they stood out in clear relief under her shirt.

"Try to relax some and hold up your arm," Arya instructed.

Willow dutifully took a few deep breaths and, with each exhalation, relaxed some of the tautness in her muscles. She was noticeably less tense when she finished, but still stood tall and strong. She raised the arm closest to Eragon to hide her face somewhat.

"I will ask the questions mentally," Arya told Willow, "so you won't anticipate them and try to create the desired reaction." Willow's arm dipped four times in a row, followed by a very firm no, where her arm stayed strong.

Willow looked expectantly at Arya, hoping the expression on her face wouldn't be as alarming as when directed at a male. "Well?" she demanded.

"You are done. The allergy is cleared," Arya replied, instinctively bracing herself.

Willow smiled and threw her arms around Arya, hugging her tightly for a second. "Thank you," she fervently breathed, as she had once before. Then she let go and spun around. "Sorry again," she called to Eragon as she strode out the door and ran to Varhog.

-:-:-

After Arya closed the door, Eragon commented, "I never thought to see such a look on the face of any female besides yourself, my love. How did you like getting a glimpse in the mirror at yourself just about every night and many times in between?" He grinned at her as she returned to his side.

"That was shocking," Arya agreed. "Is that really what I look like? It's hard for me to believe I contain that much passion and longing. Willow's was almost palpable."

"Aye," Eragon confirmed. "Though your eyes burn more like Fírnen's flames. Hers? Well, I had best not dwell on it." He laughed. "I'm sure they're having fun about now, judging by how quickly they got here." His eyes had involuntarily taken on a look of longing, which Arya saw clearly enough, so she leaned into his lap and started kissing him. He eagerly returned the kiss.

-:-:-

In the meantime, Willow jumped on Varhog's back and he ran them just as swiftly back to their hut. When he reached the yard in front of it, Willow demanded, "Stop!" so he wouldn't go inside. Less than ten minutes had passed since they had left. The dragons and wolves remained where they were, and the snow fell with more force.

"Kneel down," Willow commanded in his ear. Varhog didn't immediately obey, so with a return of her playful teasing, Willow added, "I can make you, if you would prefer," and circled her arms around his neck.

Varhog quickly dropped, bowing his head and releasing her legs where he had been holding them. He clenched his hands into tight fists, and his body began trembling.

Willow slid her legs to the ground, ripping off her undershirt and throwing it behind them so he wouldn't notice. She shivered with the cold but only slightly—the passion she felt was burning through her whole body. She squatted down so her bare skin wouldn't brush his and carefully jerked his pants down to his knees. Then she moved around in front of him, repeating the maneuver she had performed after their last fight on the night of their wedding by pressing his face into her chest.

Varhog was, as then, completely unprepared for it and he inhaled sharply, accepting her blatant invitation with relief.

Willow vocalized her approval but was disappointed that her hands couldn't reach their desired location. "Sit back," she ordered, but Varhog made no move to obey. Perhaps he hadn't heard, which wasn't surprising.

So Willow lifted one knee, carefully pushing it into his body _next_ to his groin so she wouldn't injure him in his aroused state, which had the desired effect. Varhog flinched, automatically lurching away from the contact. Willow took advantage of the movement to force him to sit back over his ankles, using her knee to apply continued pressure to the sensitive area. She could tell Varhog was confused and still didn't understand her intent.

Willow knelt on his lap instead of sitting—which was what Varhog seemed to expect and desire—so she would remain high enough for him to continue his efforts while she reached down and was finally successful in starting hers _._ Varhog grunted in surprise at the contact of her cold hands on that part of his body, and she guessed he finally understood her wishes.

So he wouldn't have to wonder any longer, Willow nonetheless clarified, "I need to feel that your semen won't hurt me anymore before it goes inside my body, so release before we join." She let out a sound of pleasure at his continued fondling, knowing she had made him so hungry for her that he couldn't bring himself to stop.

Varhog withdrew only long enough to ask, "How soon? I could whenever you wish, I'm so aroused right now."

"As soon as I'm ready, which won't be long," Willow replied, anxiously leaning into him.

She was right. Before long, the anticipated moment arrived for them both and when it was over, she ended her efforts by wrapping her arms around his neck, tears of joy filling her eyes at the undeniable proof that she had no negative reaction to his semen.

Willow echoed something Myrin had once told her, and which that day had clearly proved true. "The thrill of battle is second only to being with you, Varhog. We need never worry about sharing our love again, in whatever way we see fit."

Willow pulled back to look at him, noticing that his eyes were also full of powerful emotions. She kissed him, softly at first, but they were so starved for each other that it didn't stay tender for long.

Varhog jumped up, using magic to summon his shirt and her coat to his hand while keeping the other arm firmly under her. He strode with her toward Black Thunder. As he climbed into his dragon's saddle, Willow heard him demand, _Take us to the hot spring_. Then, since their mouths were still busy, he mentally added to Willow, _He can get us there faster_.

"Mmmm," she acknowledged. Varhog helped her into her coat so the frigid winter air high in the sky wouldn't be as unbearable, then he shrugged into his shirt before circling his arms around her under the coat to give her extra warmth.

Black Thunder made the flight to the hot spring in half the time, but Varhog and Willow were only getting started. The dragon could have landed directly over the pool, which was the only nearby area clear of trees, but Varhog asked him to land farther away so he could run. This he did, right after sliding down from his dragon with Willow wrapped around him.

When he reached the pool, Varhog lowered himself into a snow drift with Willow above him, staying there until she was trembling with ecstasy and cold. Then he stood, removing all of their clothing with sharp, determined rips and dropping it in a messy heap before striding into the water.

They continued on in this manner for many hours. Their passion only peaked before it slowly, gradually, finally ebbed, leaving them as perfectly content and relaxed as they had ever been, deeply asleep in one another's arms near the edge of the water.

* * *

 **A/N:** The next chapter contains a very brief, tame reference to intimacy. Just FYI. :)


	42. Whole

**42\. Whole**

That night Willow and Varhog automatically awakened from their deep sleep at an hour past midnight, the time Willow's unexplained reaction had begun the first night. They both subconsciously knew the right time, as indelibly as it had been impressed upon their minds.

Willow stared at his eyes, which were glowing in the darkness. "Say something," she whispered.

"I love you."

Willow smiled. His voice was as welcome and beautiful to her ears as it always had been. "I'm already seeing and feeling you and there's no problem there." She snuggled into him more closely, and he tightened his hold around her.

Pressing her nose into the middle of his chest, Willow inhaled deeply and murmured, "Mmmm. Perfect. Smells like you have been making love to me all day again."

Varhog chuckled, and she turned her head so her ear would be next to his chest instead of her nose. "What else? Sound, sight, smell, touch . . ." She trailed off innocently as if she couldn't think of the last one.

"Taste?" Varhog helpfully supplied, smiling faintly.

"How could I forget?" Willow softly exclaimed with mock naiveté. "Let's test that one out."

She turned her face and tasted him with her tongue. "Seems fine right there," she informed, "but it may not be true for everywhere. We had best be thorough." She moved her mouth toward his neck, pulling herself up using his shoulders until their faces were level.

"Still fine," she whispered. Willow kissed up his neck, then along his jaw to his chin, where she planted a firm kiss on the cleft she loved so much. She skirted his lips, trailing small kisses along his nose up to his eyes.

Varhog sighed in contented acceptance as his body tensed, and Willow felt his reaction with her leg right over him. She lifted her face around his horn and rested it on the bottom curl so she could tease his ear, spending a few seconds there.

Varhog laughed as it must have tickled. "Still fine?" he playfully asked.

"More than fine," Willow confirmed, moving her face away from his horn to look at him. "How about my favorite part now?" She gazed at his eyes for a moment, feeling a twinge of annoyance that tears suddenly filled hers. "What now?" she irritably demanded.

"Eartheyes?" Varhog worriedly asked.

"My eyes decided that I needed to be crying right now," Willow explained in amused exasperation.

"Why?" he wondered.

"I don't know!" Willow cried. Then she laughed. "That's why I asked them."

Varhog laughed with her. Then he kissed her as he began stroking her hair. "Your hair is so tangled. Maybe I'll brush it for you again and this time you'll like it."

Willow creased her brow. "I'm so—"

Varhog cut her off. "Don't apologize, Eartheyes. I know you couldn't help it. I know part of you _did_ like it. I understand."

The tears overflowed onto her cheeks, and Willow smiled through them. "Thank you for being so selfless and understanding. That must be why these tears made an appearance a moment ago. When I looked at you, it struck me what an amazing man you are . . . I mean ram. . . . You know what I mean. You have been my best friend for so long, Varhog. You have been loyal, caring, demanding, and . . . and everything. You are everything to me. You brought me back to life when I felt I had no reason to live except Sunset, but she would never have been able to be what you were to me and what you are now.

"And now? Now you have given me even more, more than I thought it possible for one person to give another. I always wanted to marry my best friend, but I had _no idea_ what it would actually feel like to be married to a ram who is so strong and wise and mature and selfless. You made me a wife. You made me a mother. When you fought those wolves to protect me yesterday . . . I . . ."

Willow choked as the tears turned to sobs. Varhog sat up and made a soothing noise as he held her close and gently rocked, still stroking her hair.

But she wanted to finish. "I realized how blessed I am. To have a mate who _could_ do that and who _would_. I felt your courage, strength, and compassion as you did what you had to, though you didn't want to harm them. I guess what I'm getting at is that I'm _so_ grateful for you. I love you so much, but those words just sound pitiful, like there's no way they could convey what I really feel, how _deeply_ I really feel . . ." She trailed off again, feeling like there was so much more she wanted to say but not knowing the words that would carry her meaning.

Varhog was silent as he continued his efforts to comfort her, and Willow soon felt a warm wetness on her hair. She realized he was crying and pulled back to look at him. He met her gaze, his eyes saying the same thing she had felt—there weren't words that could express his feelings. They gazed unblinking at one another for many seconds. Even after they had to blink, they didn't stop staring as they attempted with their eyes to communicate all of their love, devotion, and gratitude. Though pure and intimate, it inevitably turned to longing as their bodies sought to express what their minds were unable to through word.

"I never did get to taste my favorite part," Willow reminded him, not in the teasing way of before but with such tenderness. She reached for his mouth, the yearning almost more powerful for how gentle and caring it was.

-:-:-

That warm, selfless tenderness was the most pronounced part of their intimate expression. Varhog was so careful and gentle. Worshipful. He adored the beautiful, sweet, warm girl who had grown before his eyes and under his instruction into this strong, powerful, commanding woman who still accepted him, even more than the young girl had because she welcomed _this_. She longed for this. She loved this part of him as much as every other part of himself that he had been able to give to her before as her friend.

As unlikely as it was, Varhog wept as they shared the beautiful moment of surrender and release. He was so overcome by her touching words, her tender manner, her wholehearted acceptance and approval of him, and that they could share such an intimate moment of love and pleasure.

Willow gazed at him in wonder, her eyes displaying similar overwhelming emotions. "No pain, Varhog. Only peace and pleasure and joy. We are whole now, sweetheart."

Varhog nodded, his tears falling to her face, for she was beneath him at her insistence.

"We are whole," he echoed. "Thank you, Willow. My Willow. I will always love and protect you. You are my life. More. I would die for you, my beautiful mate." He raised himself with one arm around her so they would stay joined. He needed to wrap her in his arms right then. And he did, gently pressing her body into his and holding her face to his chest. He remembered what she had said the first night at the hot spring about her father singing to her in his marvelous voice, the voice that was exactly like his own.

Varhog had never sung to Willow, but he _could_ sing, so he sang her an elven song he had learned from the Eldunarí, a song that spoke of love and loyalty so enduring that each person would willingly sacrifice their own life for the other. He had to sing it much deeper than an elf would, but it worked, and Varhog felt Willow trembling in his arms in her bliss. He finished—though his tears didn't—and continued to hold and rock her.

"Thank you," Willow breathed when she was able. "I didn't know you could do that but now that I do, I will require it at least once a day. It was beautiful."

Varhog lay back, reaching for the blanket he had retrieved from Black Thunder's saddlebags so he could spread it over them. Now that they had ascertained that Willow's strange reaction and allergy were behind them, they returned to their slumber with the beautiful knowledge and reassurance that they could move forward and enjoy their lives together as friends and lovers, bound to one another for as long as time would allow.

 _The Cycle Continues . . ._

In Part Three:

 **Full Circle**

* * *

 **A/N** : If you're reading this, thanks for sticking with me so far! As the title to Part Three suggests, we come full circle in many ways, especially Eragon and Arya as they visit Carvahall and Ellesméra. And of course they come full circle in their relationship with the birth of their baby. But it's not all fun and games before then or after, and there is still a fair amount of time spent with Willow and Varhog. Part Three is entitled _The Cycle Continues Part Three: Full Circle_ and still rated M, so if you want to keep reading, look for that. As with Part Two, Part Three will begin without any intro or summary. ~Autumn :)

P.S. If you intend to keep reading with Part Three, I would love to hear what you think in a brief review! It only takes a few seconds and makes my day to hear reader feedback.


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